


Cosmic Love

by Scarlet_Gryphon



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Comments are highly appreciated!, F/M, Gen, M/M, mashup up of good omens discworld and whatever else I could fit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet_Gryphon/pseuds/Scarlet_Gryphon
Summary: Barry is not a good demon. He was never a particularly spectacular angel, either. Ten thousand years on Faerûn have taught him a lot, but maybe some old friends and new enemies can teach him something even better...(AKA: an unholy Monster Factory-fusion of bits and pieces of ideas from TAZ, Good Omens, Supernatural, and whatever else I can fit into this story pureed and then poured out into a pinata to see what comes out when it's smashed)





	1. Kingdoms of Rain

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable characters (c) their creators. Barry will get less sweary/angry over time. Probably.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which books are misplaced, old friends are found, and a demon runs.

Barry is not a good demon. That is to say, he doesn’t delight in major acts of evil or tempting people away from the light or whatever things people come up with to ascribe to him and those like him. They’re capable of that all on their own without any of his help. Humans and the other beings on Faerûn are just _like_ that.

No, Barry only really holds the title of demon because he doesn’t entirely agree with what The Higher Ups have laid out as law ever since their Creator simply… disappeared. Stepped aside. Vanished. No one really knows what happened to Them- if this is all a test to see what happens when the metaphorical cat’s away, if it’s just part of The Plan™, or if the Creator just wandered off to do something in some other dimension that lesser celestial beings don’t have access to and will be coming back at some undefined point in the future.

The point is, Barry’s hardly a traditional demon, but he’s not exactly an angel, either. He’s somewhere in between. He wonders if that makes him more human than any anything else, but keeps his opinions to himself. Neither side would likely be happy to hear him put forth _that_ opinion. He keeps himself to himself, only occasionally reporting in to his superiors in Hell so they don’t get snippy- well, _more_ snippy, anyways -about his rather obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Before all this- before the Fall, the Scattering, the Division, whatever you want to call it -Barry had had a family. A flock. They’d been a rather unconventional one, but he’d loved his six flockmates like nothing else. He’s managed to keep vague track of most of them over the years: Lucretia’s still an Archivist Upstairs, Merle’s found work with another god (Pan’s a nice being, all things considered, even if Barry’s not too fond of his kind of music), Davenport’s off doing something with the oceans, and Magnus has settled in as one of the patron protectors of woodworkers and dogs.

The only two Barry doesn’t know at least vaguely where they are are Taako and Lup. He misses those two especially, because while the others were like family, it was more like extended family; two weird uncles and some cousins that were nonetheless close as direct blood relatives. Taako and Lup, however… Taako had been like his brother in all but blood, and Lup–

Barry had done his best to keep his galaxy-sized crush on Lup quiet as much as he could, not wanting to earn her scorn, or, Creator-forbid, her pity. That would’ve been worse than any sort of derision she could’ve shown him.

The two twins had vanished roughly the same time as the Creator, leaving a weird gap in the flock that had never quite healed. Maybe that’s why the remaining five members drifted apart. Barry doesn’t know, and it hurts to think about it. He tucks the hurt away as he moves through the years, its dull ache weighing him down like anchors on his ragged and ill-kept wings.

And then…

And then everything changes when Barry meets a young boy in Neverwinter whose eyes hold the same boundless intelligence, love, and understanding as his Creator.

It all starts in a library. The library itself isn't the biggest one in the city, nor the most popular, but it still sees a good amount of traffic nonetheless. Barry's been running the library on his own for as long as the city's been around. He enjoys his usually quiet days, opening the library around eight or so in the morning and closing around twelve hours or so later on most days.

Barry putters around the library, activating the recall spells on the unshelved books that're scattered around the building as he wanders around tidying up. He absently leaves a few fresh bananas on a wooden platter that hovers near the top of one of the shelves in the Magical Theory section, hearing a faint ' _Ook_ ' of thanks as he rounds the corner into the Magical Creatures area.

It never hurts to stay in the good graces of his fellow Librarians, even those not currently in his current dimension. Perhaps especially so.

Barry makes it to the front desk, magicking away the bits of trash and other debris he's collected to either the rubbish bin or the lost and found depending on the item, and then steps behind the desk to check the Library Catalog. It deserves the capital letters, as it's easily the biggest and heaviest book in the entire library, even outweighing (and out-paging) the auto-updating Encyclopedia of Dangerous Creatures and Beings of Faerûn. Barry skims over the first page, pausing when he sees an outlier.

Outliers _never_ happen in the library, not when all the books have been tagged with an automatic recall spell to be reshelved if still in the library or returned once their due date is up and they haven't been renewed. All the books that are due have been returned to the collection bin, so that's not the issue. The problem is...

Barry squints a little before tapping the title in red. _Caleb Cleveland and the Mystery of the Jade Sphinx_. Hm. That's not one he's ever had a problem with, but he supposes there's a first time for everything. He taps it again, and a gentle beam of light that only he can see shoots up from one of the more distant corners of the second-floor balcony of the building, just visible beyond the magically reinforced and warded wooden railings that keep even the most enthusiastic and determined would-be flier from launching themselves or others over them.

Barry heaves a sigh and then pushes away from the desk, adjusting his glasses as he goes. He's not particularly intimidating in this form- then again, he never has been, even when he was a proper angel -but he can break out a sternly disappointed voice just as well as any favored parent or teacher. It's not the first time someone's tried to stay overnight, especially when the rain's tipping down outside like it is right now, but usually they don't hold books hostage when they do it. Barry doesn't mind them staying so long as they're quiet and don't try anything stupid. He might be a demon, but he's not _heartless._

He passes by the small Necromancy section, waving idly to the two stone gargoyles of griffins that perch high above as he goes; they ruffle their wings at him in response, the sound resembling crunching gravel. The library has an extensive selection of books available to borrow. Barry doesn't limit what his patrons can take home, not really. He just makes sure that any of the more... questionable tomes are kept heavily chained to the shelves and, if someone is determined to take one home, sits them down and hands them a very thick stack of paperwork to fill out.

He's never had anyone actually manage to complete reading and signing the thousand or so page-long document, as not even the most die-hard necromancer has that much time for paperwork. It's a handy little work-around of providing the temptation for something but not actually following through with it. Barry's made sure that any kind of copying, be that magical or manual, can't be done with the tomes that actually break any of the Raven Queen's laws. He might be a celestial being, but She's got more power than he ever will, and he's not about to piss Her off.

Besides, some of her reapers come in from time to time to visit him. One in particular, Kravitz, has struck up an odd sort of friendship with Barry that neither of them can quite explain as to how it works, but it does. It's one of the longest friendships Barry's had since he left Upstairs, and he treasures it and guards it as closely as he can. They often get into some intense discussions about the music they've encountered over the centuries, as well as the various books Barry's managed to collect in what Kravitz jokingly calls his hoard.

Barry heads upwards, the wood of the stairs creaking lightly under his weight, and then makes his way down the main aisle once he gains the balcony. He passes some of the lighter fare the library carries, eventually ending up in the youth section. Barry puts on his best firm but fair expression as he reaches the beanbag chair-filled corner where the Catalog's beam (now faded greatly) has indicated the errant book can be found.

“Excuse me, but the library is closing in five minutes and-”

Barry stops dead when he feels a magical aura he hasn't experienced in more centuries than he cares to count emanating from the corner. He stares at the young half-elf who's curled up on one of the squashiest beanbag chairs, the missing book held safely in their hands. Intelligent brown eyes peer out at him from behind large, round-framed glasses before a gap-toothed smile flashes at him in recognition.

Barry barely has time to process the fact that he's in the presence of his Creator (albeit in a form he's never seen Them in before) before his heartbeat skips dangerously when he hears an achingly familiar voice.

“There you are, Ango! I swear, we need to tie a leash around you to keep your nerdy little nose out of all these books.”

“Hello, sir! Look who I found!”

Barry turns to look behind him to see Taako striding up the aisle, looking as calm and collected as ever, a tall wizard's hat perched jauntily on his perfectly coiffed hair. Taako grins brightly and then turns to call over his shoulder.

“Lulu! Hey, Lup! Get your ass up here and see what Angus has found!”

Barry's eyes widen further when he hears rapid footsteps coming up the stairs and then down the aisle. He can barely breathe at this point, and he swears his vision is starting to gray at the edges when Lup comes into view looking just as breathtakingly amazing as ever. Her brilliant smile is like a burst of noontime sunlight in the middle of a midnight storm.

“Barry! What the hells are you doing here?”

Barry sinks down onto the nearest free beanbag chair, buries his face in his hands, and then quietly starts to laugh, the sound growing in volume and raggedness until it's loud and bordering on manic. He barely notices Lup and Taako exchanging worried glances, nor does he really register the sound of the other beanbag chair shifting around and lightweight footsteps approaching him until it's too late.

“Look at me, Barry. Barry. Bar- _Sildar._ ”

Barry's laughter cuts off mid-noise, his head snapping up and his hands dropping to his lap. He's face to face with the childlike form of his Creator, barely six inches keeping them apart. No one's called him by his true name in millennia, not even back when he was still hanging around Upstairs. It's always been Barry or some variant thereof.

“I don't--” Barry takes in a shuddering breath, trying to ease the tightness in his chest and head. “I don't _understand,_ ” he manages, his voice plaintive. “Where... Where have You _been_? And you two!” He gestures at Taako and Lup. “You _left!_ I don't... I don't...”

A small hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Take a deep breath,” comes the gentle command. “Good. And another. I hope you're comfortable, because this is going to take a while.”

Barry lets out a rough and watery laugh. “I'm a _librarian_. I love long stories.”

His former flockmates claim two of the other squashy chairs while the third is reclaimed by its former occupant.

“So,” Taako says, folding his long legs in a neat tailor's seat beneath him, “it's been, what, seven, eight thousand years?”

“Ten,” Barry replies tersely, “but who's counting?”

He knows it comes out more snippy than it should reasonably should, but he's more than a little past basic civility at this point.

“Geeze, cool it, my dude,” Taako says flippantly. “So I was a little off. Anyways-”

“Cool it?” Barry repeats flatly, not caring if he's interrupting Taako as his anger gets the better of him. “ _Cool it?_ Explain to me how exactly I'm supposed to 'cool it' when you're making light of having just up and left without any warning, going off with our Creator who up and fucking _abandoned_ everything and everyone They had made without so much as a 'oh, by the way, I'm out of here'? No, Taako, I'm not going to just 'cool it' and sit here listening to you make light about this situation. Either take this seriously or get the hell out of here.”

“Barry-”

“Don't You even fucking _start._ ”

The words slip out of Barry's mouth before he truly realizes what he's said and to whom he's said it. When his brain finally catches up, he freezes entirely before his sense of self-preservation kicks in with a vengeance. It takes the space between one heartbeat and the next for Barry to leave the library in a rush of magic and feathers, his wings propelling him through the gaps between the planes faster than the speed of thought.

He just wants...

Advice.

That would be an amazing thing to have right now. Barry's heart and mind are whirling with questions. Why has the Creator returned now of all times? Why are Lup and Taako with Them? Why haven't any of them reached out over the years? What is it that they've been doing all this time?

Barry knows that, had he stayed, he probably would've gotten the answers in due time, but he just... _can't_. He needs distance and time, which seems ridiculous given the circumstances, but _still_. Barry eventually comes to rest... somewhere. A quick read of the general area with his celestial senses lets him know that he's somewhere in the Woven Gulch near a town called Refuge, though the pocket of forest that he's in is some distance away from the town itself.

He lets out a laugh that's devoid of humor, shaking his head before looking around with his more mundane senses. It's night here as well, though without the storm that's currently overhead in Neverwinter. The soft chirrup of crickets mixed in with a gentle breeze that ruffles Barry's hair has him calming some, though a sense of shame washes over him and makes his stomach roil uneasily the longer he stands there.

Acting as he has will have consequences, he knows that. Maybe... Maybe it's best if he just... leaves. Doesn't try searching for his sudden visitors again and instead takes up with a new patron. Or-

Barry stares down at the ground, his vision narrowing to the dirt beneath his feet. Does he deserve that? Deserve to be in the service of a being greater than him that will trust in him to follow their orders and be their hand on this planet after everything that he's done?

He sinks down onto a large rock, his ragged wings hunched around his tightly drawn shoulders. Barry's lost so deep in the tumult of his thoughts that he doesn't notice that he's not the only being in the clearing he's landed in any more until a lilting voice breaks the silence.

“You look like you could use some advice. Maybe I can help.”

Barry startles and nearly tips off his seat, saved only by the half-flare of his wings. Standing before him is a older human woman. She looks like a grandmother from a fairy tale and smells like it too, the scent of baked goods wafting off of her. Barry stares at her in the light of the lantern she's holding, willing his heartbeat to slow.

“I...” He pauses. Maybe... Yeah. Maybe this can work. “You know what? I _could_ use some advice.”

The woman smiles brightly. “Good. You follow me and we can get this all sorted out.”

Barry gets to his feet and follows after her. He's not entirely quite sure how, but soon enough he's ensconced in a squashy armchair with a cup of hot tea in one hand, a freshly baked blueberry scone in the other, and a handmade quilt draped over his lap.

“So,” Paloma says once introductions have been made, “tell me everything, and we'll see what kind of help I can give you.”

Barry drinks some of his tea to wet his throat, sets his scone down, and then begins to talk.


	2. Little Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which advice is given, a talk is had, and a plan is born.

It's nearing sunrise when Barry ends his tale, having gone through two more scones and twice that amount of cups of tea. He's exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally, but it feels good to finally have talked to someone about what he's been carrying around for the past ten millennia. Paloma's a good listener. She doesn't interrupt him or ask too many questions, and she doesn't demand he prove that he's a demon either, simply taking in his story until he's caught up to the current day, his voice faltering as he describes the shock he felt when Taako, Lup, and the Creator appeared out of the blue.

Barry cups his hands around the sturdy teacup he's been holding on to for the past few hours, staring down at the gently steaming liquid that Paloma's poured into it for the final time. The silence stretches between them, the faint sounds of the early morning birds waking and chirping beyond the glazed glass panes of the windows and the faint clinking of the hundreds of crystals hanging overhead the only things to break it. Eventually, Paloma sets her own teacup down on its saucer on a nearby side table, the sharp clink of porcelain against porcelain startling Barry enough to make him look up.

“I think,” Paloma says, leaning forward, “that you need to talk to your friends. You can't know the full story without doing that, and I am more versed in prophecy than the past, to be honest.”

Barry's eyebrows rise. “Prophecy?”

Paloma nods and gestures at the crystals hanging overhead. “Each one holds a prophecy. One diamond gets a small prophecy and ten gets a big one. I-”

She pauses when she sees one of the larger crystals hanging above the table shiver and then snap free of the string suspending it from the ceiling. The two of them watch it fall slowly, the crystal shattering into fine golden dust as it hits the surface of the table. Barry holds his breath as the dust flies up into the air in a cloud that hangs between himself and Paloma.

A roiling dark mass of what seems to be sludge or dense fog lit from within by multi-colored flashes of light swirls in the center of the dust cloud, tendrils of ink-black constantly forming and reforming and lashing out like the arms of a dying octopus. While Barry watches the unsettling scene, Paloma speaks, her voice low and redolent with prophecy.

“ _ **That which seeks to destroy all approaches swiftly. The Faded Ones are no longer sufficient to sate its Hunger. In the battles ahead, remember this: the flock that survives another day is the one that fights together.**_ ”

The vision in the dust fades while Paloma shakes her head and then takes a long drink of her tea.

“Is... Are you alright?” Barry asks, giving her a concerned look. Paloma waves him off with a shake of her head.

“No need to worry about me. Prophecy... Eh, it can be a burden sometimes, but I can handle it. Now, you'd best go to your friends and hear their side of the story, yes?”

Barry sighs. “I suppose.”

Paloma nods and then gets to her feet. “Take some scones with you. I always bake far too many.”

“Oh, I don't-”

“Nonsense.”

Paloma packs a small covered basket full of baked goods for Barry to take with him, pressing it into his hands and then pushing him out the door with a surprising amount of strength for someone so small. Barry hears the door lock behind him and takes the not-so-subtle hint to go away. With a sigh, he transports himself back to the library, wincing when he realizes the thunderstorm hasn't quite given up the ghost and is still pouring down rain.

He's immediately soaked, and while he can just use a bit of magic to dry himself and then make sure that he doesn't get wet again, Barry doesn't bother, instead protecting the basket and its contents with his magic. It's a private sort of penance for his actions and stupidity, he supposes, even if it's a small one. He hesitates and then makes his way up to the roof in a rush of wings, not really feeling like going in just yet.

There's an overhang that he can sit under and watch the rain fall without needing to worry too much about getting more wet than he already is. Barry lets his wings manifest and then curls them around himself, the basket tucked up on his lap. He stares out at the rain, letting his mind wander and mull over the prophecy Paloma has relayed to him. Like most prophecies, it's rather vague, though the mention of a flock has him thinking that it's going to involve angels at the very least, and- this is the part that worries him -him and his own flock, scattered as they are.

Barry's so deep in his thoughts that he doesn't even notice he'd not alone any longer until he nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Lup's voice.

“Barry? What're you doing sitting out here?”

Barry looks up, his damp feathers puffing out a little before he calms himself. He smiles sheepishly and then tucks his wings away into the dimensional pocket he usually keeps them in before setting the basket to one side.

“Just.. enjoying the rain, I guess.” His smile turns lopsided. “And contemplating life and my place in the universe in general.”

“Scoot over.”

Barry does so, allowing Lup to settle in beside him. The achingly familiar warmth of her magic washes over him, drying him gently from head to toe and then making his clothes feel like they've been freshly laundered. She leans against him as if no time has passed between them. Barry can't find it in himself to push her away, even with all the tangled remnants of hurt and anger and abandonment that're still swimming in the depths of his immortal being like a swarm of jellyfish in deep waters.

Back when they were still all a flock, casual physical touch was just another thing that happened all the time. Nowadays, neither Upstairs nor Down Below are all that happy with things like that, with the former seeing it as an unnecessary indulgence and the latter decrying it as too mushy. The very occasional clap of the shoulder or handshake seems to be the limit, and Creator forbid anyone offer to help groom another's wings. That's what magic is for, after all, one of the few things both sides can agree on.

He's more than a little touch-starved. Barry's not fool enough to deny it, even though he's become a master of denial in many other areas of his existence. He merely sighs softly and closes his eyes, soaking in the warmth of Lup's presence beside him as he leans his head back against the wall behind them. Other than that, Barry keeps still save for his breathing, not trusting himself to do much more than that.

“So,” Lup says after a while, nudging him gently with an elbow, “a library, huh? Not where I was expecting to find you. I thought you'd still be back home doing your nerd thing in R&D.”

Barry lets out a huff of humorless laughter, drawing his knees closer to his body and then wrapping his arms around them. “I would be if I hadn't been kicked out.”

He can feel Lup staring at him in shock. He glances over at her, notes her wide-eyed look, and then shrugs. “It's a bit of a long story.”

“We've got plenty of time,” Lup points out. “Well, until the library opens for the day, anyways.”

Barry lets his magic flex, sealing the wards and making a sign appear on the front door that will let the library's patrons know it's closed for an indeterminate amount of time. Any books that're out and about will be automatically returned to the library once their due date comes around thanks to the spells Barry's laid on them.

“No need to worry about that now,” he tells her, resting his chin on his knee. “As for why I'm not still Upstairs...” He lets out a soft sigh. “I made my opinions known to those who took over running things after the Creator left. They split into two factions. Those who didn't agree with the new leaders were cast out and branded as demons, both literally and metaphorically.”

He absently rotates his left shoulder, the scar that the potion-dipped brand had left pulling faintly at the skin over the shoulder-blade there. “It started with me arguing with Lucas about whether or not we should introduce a new species of magical creature into the world and went downhill from there. They don't want change for the better or worse. It's stagnant. The other demons aren't much better. They want to create as much chaos as they can by putting temptation after temptation in front of people or letting loose plagues or encouraging wars and other shit like that. I don't really-- that's not my thing.”

“I wouldn't think it would be,” Lup says, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Barry shivers and hopes he can pass it off as being due to the chilly atmosphere.

“Yeah. I mainly deal with inconveniences and minor temptations. Nothing ridiculous, but enough to keep the others off my back most of the time,” Barry tells her. “Lost keys, a thrown horseshoe, and so on.” He laughs quietly, this time with more humor than before. “Occasionally I'll get a necromancer in trying to use the tomes here, but that never lasts.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, the paperwork is hellacious, and occasionally we get an agent of the Raven Queen dropping in from time to time.” Barry grins. “The paperwork to check out any of the darker tomes is a thousand double-sided page document that has to be signed thoroughly. The farthest someone's managed to get is two hundred and seventy-two pages in before they gave up. I made sure to magically mark them so Kravitz- the reaper I mentioned -could keep an eye on them. That was...” He hummed, thinking. “Forty or so years ago, I think? The library's been open for three hundred years, give or take.”

“What were you doing before then?”

“Well, I got kicked out from Upstairs five thousand and six hundred years after you left, spent four thousand looking for you and the others, and then a hundred years or so pretty much as a drunk hermit in a cave until I eventually realized that wasn't the best use of my time. Neverwinter had grown a lot since I'd first visited it as a small port town, so I set up shop here. I figured it'd be a good place to keep an eye on things since it's one of the biggest cities in Faerûn. If there was any news about the Creator or a couple of angels kicking about, it'd likely either go through here first or get here eventually.”

Barry trails off, keeping his eyes on the rain pouring down outside their hideaway. Lup is quiet, and Barry can't bring himself to look at her to see what her reaction is. He values her opinion too much and doesn't want to see her disappointment in him. He tenses, waiting for her to move away and leave once more. What happens instead makes his breath catch in his chest, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

Lup slides her arm around his shoulders and then pulls him in for a sideways hug. “I'm sorry you had to be alone for all this time. What happened to the others?”

It takes a few moments for Barry to formulate his answer, as his brain is short-circuiting from the sudden close physical contact. “I- Th-they're all a bit scattered. 'Cretia is the only one still Upstairs as an archivist. Merle's working for Pan, Magnus is now a patron of woodworkers and dogs, and Dav... is off doing something on the ocean. I'm not sure what. I know Merle visits him when he can, but that's about it.”

“I'm sure they had their reasons to leave,” Lup says, her voice curiously even, “but I'm sure we can deal with that later.”

“What did you leave?”

Lup sighs. “That's a story I think Angus should tell you. It's mainly Theirs. Taako and I have just sort of been along for the ride. We honestly didn't think we'd be gone that long. Maybe a few years at most. I swear, Barry, we never meant to abandon you guys or anything like that.”

Barry hums. “Y-yeah. I guess-- Angus? Why did They choose that name?”

“It's the one Their parents gave Them.”

Barry frowns. “Parents?”

“Trust me, They'll explain it way better than I can.”

“If you say so.”

Barry gathers up the basket in one hand before taking Lup's hand in his other and directing them through the wards, transporting the two of them into the dry interior of the library. He helps Lup up to her feet.

“Alright,” he says. “Where are they?”

Taako pokes his head out over the railing on the balcony. “Still up here!” he calls out. “Where have you been, and why do I smell pastries?”

Barry can't help but laugh. Of course Taako has noticed the scones.

“Are you going to play nice? Because I'm not sharing them if you aren't,” he calls back. Taako sighs dramatically.

“I guess. If I _have_ to.”

For a moment, Barry forgets how long it's been. Falling back into the habit of bantering with Taako is easy as breathing, and it takes him back to the long days where they used to go back and forth for ages as they worked together coming up with new ideas for creatures and kinds of spells to release into the world. Taako snatches the basket of goodies out of Barry's hands once he's close enough to do so, taking off the cloth covering and then pulling a scone out. He hums appreciatively, takes another scone, and then hands the basket over to Lup before heading back to the kids' section. Lup glances at the scones and then over at Barry, who just shrugs.

“I was told to share. Go ahead.”

Lup nods, extracts a baked good from the basket and then hands the basket back to Barry, following in her brother's footsteps as Barry trails along behind her. He takes a little longer to join the others in the youth section, his stomach churning at the thought of facing his Creator after yelling at Them. Barry takes a deep breath, sets the basket down on a table, and then kneels before his god, head bowed as he waits for judgment to be passed. It feels a little weird to be kneeling before the form of a child, but some of the other gods in the pantheons of Faerûn have even stranger corporeal forms, assuming they have any, so it's not the weirdest thing anyone's done.

Barry keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as the silence stretches like pulled taffy, his shoulders tensing the longer it goes on. He breaks after a few tortuous minutes, his words falling out of his mouth in a rush.

“I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- to-” He sighs sharply. “Forgive me, my liege. I should've stopped and waited and l-listened to you. I accept your judgment in this matter.”

He tenses when he hears movement from in front of him, the rustling of the beanbag chair and then the fainter one of clothes. Small hands land on his shoulders, and Barry nearly forgets to breathe.

“First, look at me, Sildar.”

Barry slowly looks up, the gentle tone making his heart ache. A warm, fond smile is curving his Creator's mouth upwards, reflecting the love Barry can see in Their eyes.

“Good. Second, please call Me Angus. There's no need to be formal all the time, and it's easier for everyone involved.” Their smile turns mischievous. “You're the third of My people to raise their voice at Me, and I couldn't be more proud.”

Barry blinks, startled. “I- wh-what?”

Angus laughs as They squeeze Barry's shoulders and then sits down in a neat tailor's seat on the floor. “I'm proud of you,” They repeat. “Really, I am. Lup and Taako were the first two, naturally. I never wanted you to fear Me. I'm not that kind of deity. I created angels as helpers initially, sure, but you also have free will. It's why I've never stopped anyone from leaving if they wanted to. Questioning Me and learning to push your boundaries is something for Me to celebrate.”

Barry sits back on his heels, soaking it all in. The Creat- _Angus –_ isn't mad at him? It boggles his mind.

“And... And the fact that I'm not an angel any more? Are you okay with that?”

Angus cocks Their head at that. “Who told you you're not an angel any more?”

Barry falters, his confusion only continuing to grow. “I- I stopped – I went against the rules You set down at the beginning. I didn't go to someone else to act as my patron. I wanted-” His eyes flick briefly over to Lup and Taako before going back to Angus. “I didn't want to miss You coming back, uh, back h-home.”

Angus' expression shifts into something more apologetic. “I'm the one who should be apologizing,” They say, folding Their hands in Their lap. “I didn't... We weren't supposed to be gone that long. I had simply wanted to walk the creation I had laid the foundations for and see how it had grown and changed since I'd last walked its surface. I took Taako and Lup with Me because I didn't think it would be safe to go alone, elder deity or not.” They smile lopsidedly. “It was for the best, actually.”

They look over at Taako and Lup, who've pushed two beanbags together to create one large seating area. The twins share physical space like they're one being at times, rarely out of some sort of physical contact and if they are, are usually within arm's reach of one another.

“Anyways, after a few years, I'd decided to check in on some of the older gods. Ones that had been drawn to the world after it was finished. The first, primal gods. The Raven Queen, Istus, Pan... they were easy to find, and we spent some time with them. Death, Fate, Nature... They're hard to miss. It's the others, the minor gods... They-” Angus shook Their head. “When we went looking for them, we couldn't find them. At first, I thought the smaller and lesser gods were simply fading due to not being worshiped any more. It happens to those who aren't powerful enough to sustain themselves beyond worship from their followers. But I... I was so, so wrong. They weren't dying. They were being _consumed_.”

Barry's eyes widen. “Consumed? By what? What can do that to a god?”

Angus leans back, running a hand over Their mouth. “That's what we've been trying to find out all this time.”

“And?”

“And it's something that just as old as Angus,” Lup says, her voice low and quiet. “From what we can tell, anyways.”

“The universe likes to be balanced,” Angus adds. “Life and death, fire and water, creation and destruction. I may be one of the oldest gods in Faerûn, but I'm not the only one. I suppose you could say I'm a twin. When I came into being, so did My equal and opposite. He never had a name. He was the end of all things where I was the beginning. I didn't see much of him after I set about My work. I figured he'd gone elsewhere to wait until it was his time to do his duty at the end of all things. That was how it was for a time, but...”

They shake Their head. “I don't know how long it took him to tire of that, but eventually he returned to Faerûn and started taking out the gods too weak to fight against him.”

“If you've known this for so long, why haven't you stopped him somehow?” Barry asks. “Assuming you want to, I mean.”

“I do, but Sildar... Barry... I don't know if I can,” Angus says with a sigh. “At least, not like this.” They wave a hand at Their body. “I haven't always had this form throughout the centuries. Holding a corporeal form for any length of time takes a lot of power, and I quickly realized that building up those reserves was important. Being reincarnated into a mortal form takes a lot less power. I usually end up in the longer-lived races just because they tend to better handle the high levels of magic that I give off. Taako and Lup have been acting as My guardians all this time, making sure they find Me when I come back into the world again and again. I think... I think this may be the last form I take for a while.”

“Don't You know what'll happen?” Barry presses. “I mean, you're a _god_.”

“I may be a god, but I'm not omniscient,” Angus says with a shake of Their head. “Besides, I can't see My own fate, and Lady Istus refuses to say anything. I might be older than Her, but even I don't want to press my luck against Her.”

Barry sits back fully on the floor, stretching his legs out from the cramped kneeling position he's been in all this time. “Well,” he says thoughtfully, picking up a scone from the seemingly never-ending basket, “maybe working against fate isn't the best idea, but what about working _with_ Her? If You don't think You can beat... um, Your twin?”

“We've been calling him the Hunger,” Taako says with a grin. Barry considers that and then shrugs before continuing on with his thought.

“Alright, the Hunger. I can-- huh. Yeah, that works. --Um, anyways. If You don't think You can beat the Hunger on Your own, why not ask the other gods to help? Elder god or not, it'd be one against many. If nothing else, it could help even the odds.”

Angus mulls that over for a long moment, idly tapping Their fingers against Their knee as They think. “It's a one in a million chance,” They say eventually, a tentatively hopeful smile spreading across Their face, “but it might just work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired and math is dumb; please let me know if I added anything wrong.


	3. Exile Vilify

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which discoveries are made, a story is told, and healing begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a very brief mention of non-graphic physical torture (branding) two-thirds of the way into the chapter and tense changes (present to past) for literal and stylistic story reasons. If you want to skip it, you can; the story shifts back to present tense after Barry's done talking about his past.

After a while, the four of them relocate to the third floor of the library, which Barry has made his own private dwelling over the years. It's heavily warded against intruders, though never against members of his flock, his Creator, or Kravitz, even if most of the first group haven't been in contact with him for nearly ten centuries. Barry's tried to be an optimist throughout the years, hoping one day that his family will be, if not reunited, then at least speaking to one another again rather than being scattered and out of touch. Barry hangs back as the others make themselves comfortable in his living room, puttering about in the nearby kitchen under the pretense of getting together some refreshments.

It's... easier, ignoring his current situation. He's aware that he'll have to tell them more about his past sooner rather than later, especially the exact circumstances regarding him being banished from Upstairs and branded as a demon, both metaphorically and literally, but that can wait. For now, he's happy to play the welcoming host as ideas for plans on how to fight against the Hunger and get the other elder gods on their side are tossed out and then rejected for various reasons.

Barry's wrapped up enough in his thoughts that he doesn't notice that he's not alone in the kitchen any more until a hand comes to rest on his left shoulder, making him startle badly and then spin around to see who it is. Taako's standing there, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

“My bad. I tried calling your name but you didn't respond.” He lowers his hands, giving Barry a searching look. “You okay? You looked like you were out of it there for a while.”

Barry slowly relaxes, though not entirely. He shrugs, his heartbeat slowing down as he takes a few calming breaths. “I'm fine. Just lost in thought, I guess.”

His left shoulder aches like he's pulled a muscle, the lingering echoes of the holy energy that Taako- and all non-fallen angels -radiate just by existing interacting poorly with the brand on his shoulder blade. Barry rolls his shoulder absently, trying to ease the ache. Something in his face must reflect the pain he feels, because Taako's eyes narrow.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I- I'm fine, really,” Barry insists. Taako gives him a flat look of disbelief and then leaves the kitchen, returning moments later with his confused-looking sister.

“You wanna try that again?” Taako presses, crossing his arms over his chest. Lup looks between the two of them.

“What's going on?”

“Bluejay here doesn't want to tell me what's wrong with him. His shoulder is hurt somehow,” Taako says, making a pang of nostalgia run through Barry at how easily the old nickname falls from his lips, “and we don't exactly have Merle here to do a physical.”

Now Barry has both of the twins' intense attention on him. It's just as disconcerting as he remembers. Taako's expression is still annoyed while Lup's confusion morphs into concern.

“Barry?”

Lup's worried tone undoes him. Barry's aware that it's a telling weakness of his, and it's rude of Taako to exploit it when he _knows_ Barry's head over feet for his sister, but also very much on-brand for him as well. Barry sighs.

“Not here. Just... follow me.”

He leads the way out of the kitchen, Taako peeling off to go sit with Angus in the living room while Lup follows Barry into his bedroom. It's not exactly a standard bedroom with a regular bed and nightstand and so on. It's modeled more after a traditionally angelic sleeping area, with a wide bowl-shaped structure set low to the floor. The structure is lined with an array of squashy pillows, cushions and blankets and can fit several angels with their wings out and comfortably splayed. A large closet is set into one wall to the left of the sleeping nest, and a low coffee table serves as Barry's nightstand.

Lup closes the door and then arches her eyebrow at him. Barry sighs before he begins to unbutton his shirt, color tinging his cheeks as he does so. Several moments later and he's standing shirtless before Lup. Her gaze sweeps over his front, checking him for any visible injuries.

“Turn around?”

Barry hesitates but does as asked, turning on the spot. He can tell the moment she spots the brand by the faintly wounded sound she makes. The soft brush of her fingers against the scarred skin has Barry shivering, both from the low-level touch hunger that has been lingering under the surface of his skin for millennia and from the interaction Lup's holy aura has with the scar. He's honestly surprised he didn't react more strongly to Angus's presence given the fact that They're a _god_ , but then again while Angus has been close to him, They haven't directly touched him on the scar like Taako and Lup have.

“Oh, _Barry_.”

There's no pity in Lup's voice, just a deep sadness. Barry shakes his head.

“Don't- It's... It's alright.”

“No, it isn't,” Lup insists. “This is in no way alright, Barry.” She lets her hand drop. “Can I see your wings? I only got a glimpse earlier.”

Barry tenses momentarily before letting his wings manifest. They're a dirty gray color, and while the feathers aren't exactly broken, they're not in the best of shape, either. He does his best to groom them, but it's easier to have someone else get the more fiddly areas near where his wings join his back. The wings of both angels and demons reflect their well-being, changing color depending on mood and general emotional and physical health. Barry's wings used to reliably be a deep and vibrant iridescent blue that closely resembled a Stellar's Jay's, but they changed to their current state after his banishment.

At least his wings hide the scar, which makes Barry feel a little better about the situation. He lets out a choked-off gasp when he feels Lup run her fingers over some of his feathers. Her touch is gentle, and it brings back long-buried memories of times before everything fell to shit and their flock would groom one another's wings so they looked the best they could. Her hand falls away after a moment, and Barry takes advantage of it to tuck his wings away and then pull his shirt back on.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” Barry tells her as he buttons up his shirt, his fingers trembling gently. He forces them still before turning around. Lup is watching him with a sad smile.

“I still feel bad that this has happened,” she says. “How _did_ it happen? You never really said.”

Barry sighs. “It's not a pretty story.”

“Well, maybe Angus can help heal you and get you back to the Barry I remember,” Lup said determinedly. Barry smiles lopsidedly.

“Maybe.”

He follows her out of the bedroom and back into the living room. Taako shoots them a questioning glance. Lup shakes her head and then goes over to Angus while Barry ensconces himself in his favorite squashy armchair.

“Barry needs your help,” she tells Them. Angus frowns and then looks at Barry.

“How can I help?”

Barry takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Alright,” he says, “but first, I should tell you how this all happened...”

Barry walked through the Halls of Creation, the plans for his newest suggestion to be added to Faerûn's magical fauna pulled up on the celestial version of a computer tablet. The idea for the tablet had been borrowed from the Plane of Thought, and likely wouldn't see a mundane version down on Faerûn for quite some time. Barry let his feet carry him through the familiar white marble-floored hallways and into the sprawling main atrium. He took a seat on the ledge that ran around the outside of the large fountain that sat in the center of the atrium, creating a peaceful island in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the Halls.

The creature Barry was working on was a hummingbird that would help pollinate some of the more rare magical plants that existed in the Felicity Wilds. He was carefully sketching the second pair of the hummingbird's wings when he heard someone clearing their throat in front of him. Barry looked up, surprised to see Klaarg, one of the leaders of the celestial guards, standing there with three other guards, all of whom looked rather serious.

“Klaarg? Is everything alright?” Barry asked, saving his work and then getting up. Klaarg gave him a lopsided smile before speaking.

“The High Council wants to talk to you right away.”

Barry's eyebrows rose sharply at that, his dark blue wings shifting to a worried shade of cerulean. “Did they say why?” he asked, looking over the group of guards with a wary eye.

Klaarg shook his head. “Just that you need to go to the Council chambers immediately.”

Barry sighed and then banished his tablet to the pocket dimension he kept it in when not using it and then followed Klaarg to the Council chambers, the other guards falling in around them. Barry felt more like he was being escorted like a prisoner rather than a guest, something that had the pit of his stomach dropping steadily. The guards remained once they arrived at the chambers, two splitting off to guard the door while one stayed with Barry and Klaarg, keeping at Barry's back until he was settled at the table in front of the panel of nine Council members, who were up in an elevated box a few feet above the chamber floor.

The angel sitting to the far left shuffled a few pieces of paper around and then cleared her throat. “I now call this emergency Council meeting into order. Presiding as Council Head is the _Solar_ Lydia Nightstar. Acting as Official Recorder is the _Astral_ Lucretia Staffbearer. The Council has convened to discuss the serious allegations of high treason by the _Astral_ Sildar Bellsong, current departmental head of Research and Development, also known as Barry Blue...jeans?” She frowned briefly and then shook her head. “ _Astral_ Bellsong will be known for the duration of this meeting as the Accused until either a sentence is passed or his innocence is proven.”

Barry looked sharply over to where the Recorder usually sat in the far right of the Council box, his eyes widening when he saw Lucretia sitting there with a quill in each hand as she wrote down the events of the meeting. She kept her gaze down, but Barry could see that her wings, normally a beautiful combination of royal blue with white-tipped feathers, were currently an almost painfully neutral slate gray. Barry turned his attention back to the Council, not liking the sharp smile he could see pass across Lydia's face ever so briefly. He'd seen friendlier smiles on crocodiles.

“Fellow Council members, we are here to discuss the Accused and his supposed crimes,” Lydia began. “He is being charged with high treason and going against the Creator's plans. An anonymous source has brought proof of these crimes that the Accused has supposedly committed.”

Barry could feel the blood draining from his face the longer Lydia spoke and was very glad that he was sitting down. He had no idea what she was talking about nor anything regarding his 'crimes'. He latched onto the use of 'supposedly', hoping beyond hope that he'd be proven innocent like he knew he was.

The picture that Lydia painted as she continued on, however, was a bleak one. Somehow, there was evidence linking him to a plot to overthrow the Creator's will and install a new leader in Their place, as well as proof showing that he was designing abhorrent magical creatures and beings in order to lay waste to the world at large. Barry's mind became filled with white noise as he tried and failed to process what was going on. He barely realized he was being spoken to until Lydia's voice rose sharply.

“Pay attention!” she snapped, making Barry startle greatly. “What do you have to say against these accusations?”

“N-not g-guilty,” Barry managed, his fingers flexing against the wood of the table convulsively. “I would _never-_ ”

Lydia cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand before a privacy ward went up, blocking Lucretia and the rest of the Council box from view. Barry's stomach cramped hard, his feathers flickering madly between a sickly green and a nauseous yellow. He felt like he was either going to throw up, pass out, or both. It took all of ten minutes for the Council to make their decision. Klaarg, bless his eternal soul, brought Barry a glass of water in an attempt to help matters.

Barry clung to the cool glass like a lifeline, shooting Klaarg a weak smile. The water threatened to make a return trip upwards as the privacy ward dropped, revealing the stony faces of the Council. Barry's heart lurched when he saw the brokenhearted expression on Lucretia's face that was quickly replaced with a far less emotional one as Lydia began to speak.

“On your feet.”

Barry rose to his feet shakily, setting the glass down hard enough to splash water over his hands and the table. He winced and went to clean it up, but Klaarg's gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“The Council has reviewed all the presented facts and has come to a decision,” Lydia announced. “The Accused has been found guilty of high treason against the Creator and Their vision for the world of Faerûn. As such, there is only one punishment that will be fit for him. He is to be branded as a demon and cast out of the Halls of Creation. Any who would consort with him will be considered traitors as well. The _Astral_ Sildar Bellsong is stripped of his position, power, and Name. He is to be considered anathema and exile. May the Creator have mercy on your eternal being. Thus speaks the High Council. Let the world know of his transgressions.”

Lydia brought a gavel down sharply on the table before her, the sharp sound of wood rapping against wood ringing out like a death knell. Barry felt his knees weaken and would have likely fallen to the ground in a heap of limbs and feathers had Klaarg not caught hold of him. There was a noise like a wounded animal dying coming from somewhere nearby, and it took Barry a good beat and a half to realize that he was the one making it. He turned and buried his face against Klaarg's broad and furry chest, the bugbear holding him close as he wept.

Barry barely had any time to mourn and release his fear before he was being dragged off by several hard-faced guards away from the Council chambers and down a hall he'd never been into before. He was stripped of all his belongings save for his underthings and then tossed into a cold, dark, and dank cell. Barry hadn't even known that such a place existed in the Halls. Time passed strangely there. It was impossible to tell how long he'd spent in that small stone-walled room that had runes carved all over it to keep his power at bay, his wings wrapped around his body in an attempt to conserve heat.

It was a time between fitful moments of sleep when the cell door was opened and Barry was hauled roughly out, blinking in the bright lights of the hallway as he stumbled between the two burly guards that were none-so-kindly escorting him. He thought for a wild moment that the Council had realized its mistake and were going to let him go, but that hope was dashed like a storm-tossed boat against the shore when he was taken into another room and strapped down onto a chilly metal table, his left wing cruelly wrenched up and back by a guard so as to bare his shoulder blade.

Barry could hear clattering coming from nearby and then footsteps.

“Demon, hear this and know fear,” intoned a deep voice that Barry couldn't place. “The Council has decreed that along with the brand marking you as traitorous scum, the sigil will be doused in the _Relegatio_ potion, further barring you from entering this realm again. If you should try to enter it by any means, you will die a most painful death, burning from the inside out from holy fire. Do you understand?”

Barry let out a rough croak that turned into a deep cough, his body trembling as his lungs tried to get air into them. There was a pause and then unimaginable pain like nothing he'd ever felt before as the potion-dipped and white-hot brand was pressed against his shoulder blade and held there until the sigil took form. Barry wasn't sure how long it was applied, as all sense of time had slipped away from him with the all-consuming pain that radiated out to every inch of his being. He barely registered the being wielding the brand moving away, the cuffs that had kept him tied down being released from around his wrists and ankles, nor the rough hands that dragged him off the table and out of the room once more.

He was deposited on a hillside somewhere near the Felicity Wilds once everything was said and done, left alone in the rain as a shuddering mess of a former angel.

“..And that's how I was kicked out,” Barry finishes, staring down at his hands. “I still don't know what kind of evidence they had against me. All I know was that a few days before, I'd argued with Lucas about the design of something he was working on.” He laughs roughly and shakes his head slowly. “Fuck, I don't even remember what it was now.”

There's dead silence after he ends his tale. Barry looks up to see how the others are reacting. Angus's eyes are burning bright with anger, as are Taako's, while Lup-- Barry's up and over to sit on the couch next to her and pulling her into a hug before he even stops to think about it. Her hand curls sharply against his chest, fingers pulling at the soft fabric of his shirt as she lets loose hot tears of grief and anger. He murmurs quiet words of comfort against her hair, running one soothing hand over her back in loose circles.

Barry can't find it in himself to grieve the loss of the Halls, not any more. He spent a hundred years in a cave as a blindly drunk hermit in an attempt to deal with it, and now all that's left is an empty, aching pit that he usually just ignores, or attempts to, anyways. It's harder some days than others, especially when he sees a particular animal or magical spell that he had a hand in designing, coming in odd waves and stirring up emotions he does his best to squash back into a box in the far reaches of his mind.

Eventually Lup's tears run out, though she stays curled up against him. Barry's shoulder aches sharply but he pays it no mind, invested more in soothing Lup's pain than dealing with his own. She's always been the best of them, he thinks, so bright and burning with fierce heat and light but also caring and loving and dedicated to doing what's right rather than what's easy. It's something that's always caught his attention and drawn him closer like a moth to a flame. He doesn't mind if his wings get a little singed if it means being able to bask in the warmth of the brilliant bonfire that is Lup's presence.

“They had no right to do that,” Angus says as They get up, Their hands clenched in tight fists.

“Can you help him?” Taako asks. Angus hesitates for the briefest of moments but then nods once sharply.

“Yes, but it's not going to be pretty or painless.”

“If it means getting back to what and who I once was, I'll do just about anything,” Barry says sincerely, now running his fingers through Lup's hair. “What do I have to do?”

It turns out that getting rid of the brand is almost, but not quite, as painful as getting it. Barry's left weak and shaking like a leaf in a high wind on the living room floor once Angus is done setting him to rights. They're not as powerful in this diminished form, and fall asleep almost the moment Taako gets Them to lay down on the nearby couch. Taako tucks a lightweight blanket around Them, making sure They're comfortable before turning to look at Barry in an appraising manner.

“You look like shit,” he says finally. Barry lets out a rough laugh as he tries and fails to push himself up into a better position, his arms feeling like wobbly jelly.

“Fuck you,” he retorts weakly, earning a warm smile and a laugh.

“I missed you,” Taako tells him, conjuring up a variety of soft and comfortable pillows and blankets from thin air before he and Lup set about arranging them around and under Barry in a makeshift sleeping nest. Barry doubts he can make it to his actual bed, so this will have to do just fine. Once the nest is arranged to the twins' satisfaction, Angus is shifted from the couch to the nest next to Barry and then Lup and Taako take the outside edges, with Taako at Angus's back and Lup at Barry's.

The lights dim of their own accord, and Barry barely has time to register how warm and comfortable he is before he's asleep between one breath and the next, the whisper of feathers in the air as Lup and Taako extend their wings and gently lay them over their small group to act as shields from the world the last thing he consciously hears.


	4. Unbound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a meal is had, some things are set right, and a new friend joins the group.

Barry wakes slowly some time later, feeling relaxed and comfortable, a rare sensation for him to be sure. There's a warm weight on his chest, and judging from the soft snores he can hear, it's one of his companions. Going from the size, it's more than likely Angus, something that makes his heart swell in an unfettered burst of deep fondness and joy. He's loathe to move, but there's something amazing that he can smell coming from his kitchen. His stomach takes that moment to grumble mightily, making Barry wince.

Angus doesn't wake, however, nor do They stir much when Barry ever so carefully shifts Them onto the cushions next to Them and then covers Them with a lightweight blanket. Barry gets to his feet, his joints stiff and popping gently from being in one position for so long. Celestial being or not, his corporeal form is still liable to the general faults of the shape it's mimicking, and that includes creaky joints. A few quick stretches later and Barry finds himself shuffling into the kitchen, his hair mussed in an epic case of bedhead that refuses to be tamed with a couple passes of his fingers through it.

Taako and Lup are in there cooking up a storm, moving around one another like elegant dancers. Barry leans against the door frame, watching the two of them with a fond smile. He's missed all of his flock immensely over the years, but Taako and Lup? They've been the ones he's missed the most, if he's honest with himself. The twins are so full of energy and life and love and brilliance that it's like watching binary suns orbit around one another, sharing their vibrant light with others while still locked in an inscrutable dance with each other. Barry's sure he'll go blind one of these days just from staring into their light, but he doesn't mind. It'll be worth it.

Lup's the one who spots him first as she turns to get more eggs out of his fridge- and Barry's relatively sure he hasn't had that many groceries in his apartment in _years_ -and his appearance earns him a bright smile that has his heart and his unseen wings fluttering in an achingly familiar way.

“Barry! How're you feeling?”

“A lot better than I have in years,” Barry replies, pushing away from the door frame and entering the kitchen proper. “Angus is still sleeping, though.”

Lup nods as she sets the egg carton down on the counter and then brushes her hands off on the apron she's wearing. “Yeah, that's not surprising. They used a lot of magic to heal you. When They're this young, Their higher-level spell slots are for shit and They tend to wipe Themselves out for a good twelve hours or more doing stuff like that.”

Barry frowns. It's not that he's ungrateful for what Angus has done for him, but he's also relatively sure that there are far worthier things that Angus could've done with Their power than to remove the outcast's brand and associated potion from his being. They certainly didn't have to wipe out Their magical reserves just for _him_.

Taako glances over at Barry and then tosses a tea towel at him. The towel startles Barry out of his thoughts, which he thinks may be Taako's whole point. Taako's always been eerily perceptive when it comes to the feelings of others, even if he usually keeps up a facade of distant aloofness when dealing with those he doesn't trust, which tends to be mostly everyone he encounters. Taako gives him a sharp look when Barry holds up the tea towel in question.

“I can hear your gears grinding from here. Nobody forces Angus to do something They don't want to, so sit down and stop being a dick to yourself,” he says, pointing a spatula firmly at him for emphasis before turning back to his cooking. He flips an omelet over with practiced ease, the thin layer of butter in the pan sizzling gently as he does so.

Barry smiles sheepishly and then takes a seat at the kitchen bar counter, settling in to watch Lup and Taako fall back into their easy rhythm until all the food is cooked and ready to be eaten. Barry doesn't usually eat breakfast in- he checks the clock on the wall -the middle of the afternoon -but he's not about to turn down food made by two of his favorite people in the universe. He helps bring the food over to the table that Taako magics to be more than big enough to fit all the dishes without being crowded.

“What about Angus?”

Lup sets down the last dish and then steps back. “I'll check on Them. You two sit down and eat.”

“Yes, mom,” Taako drawls, earning a very mature reaction from Lup as she sticks her tongue out at him and then leaves the room. Taako rolls his eyes before taking his seat at the table, gesturing for Barry to do the same.

“So, once we're done eating, we're going to take care of those wings of yours,” he says, pulling the plate of omelets towards him. “Lup told me they look like they haven't been groomed properly in years.”

“I...” Barry sighs and then grabs the plate of toast, placing two on his own plate before putting them back. “She's not wrong. Demons don't exactly do communal wing-grooming, and it fell out of favor a few hundred years after you guys left the Halls. I use enough magic to keep them neat enough to fly, but that's about it.”

“That's fucking tragic,” Taako says, shaking his head. “Seems like everything's gone to shit and back.”

Barry laughs roughly as he finishes filling his plate. “Yeah, it really has. I haven't been back since they tossed my ass out, of course, but it wasn't exactly how it used to be even before then.”

“Sounds like we'll have a lot of work when we get back,” Lup says as she reenters the kitchen, a sleepy Angus in tow. She settles Them into a chair while Taako fills a plate for Them and then sets it in front of Them. Angus smiles at him and then looks over at Barry.

“How're you doing? Feeling better?”

“Definitely, thank You. You didn't have to do that, You know.”

Angus shakes Their head. “Yes, I did. It was only right. Besides, they shouldn't have banned you from the Halls. That was never their choice to make.”

“And yet they-” Barry stops himself with a shake of his head. “I'm sorry. I guess I'm just still bitter about it.”

“You have every right to be angry,” Angus assures him. “Eat. We can figure out more things once we're done.”

Barry nods and then begins to eat, enjoying the delicious food set before him. Angus is yawning again by the time the meal is over, barely resisting Taako escorting him back to the sleeping nest in the living room. Barry helps Lup clean up, companionably putting the food away and then washing up the dishes by hand. They could just magic everything clean and tidy, but there's something more satisfying about doing it by hand. Taako joins them just as they finish up, giving them a nod.

“They're asleep again,” he informs them. “They passed out pretty much right after They got comfortable.”

“Good. Let's leave Them alone for the time being,” Lup decides before turning to Barry. “While They're asleep, let's get your wings sorted, okay?”

“You don't have to-”

Lup shoots Barry a pointed look that stops his halfhearted protests in their tracks.. “Maybe not, but we want to. Besides, you're part of our flock.”

Barry bites back the comment that he hasn't felt like that's been true for far too long, stuffing it down in the back of his mind. It's not entirely their fault that they've been gone so long, but Barry can't help but wonder why they've never come by to visit, either back when he was still in the Halls or after he was banished. He follows them into the living room and then backwards straddles a comfortably padded wooden chair that Taako conjures up for him, resting his arms on the chair's back after removing his shirt.

Theoretically he can manifest his wings while wearing a shirt, but he'd rather not have to deal with it. He glances back after he lets his wings appear, tensing briefly when he feels Taako run his fingers lightly over his feathers.

“Hm. It could be worse,” Taako muses before snapping his fingers and summoning a set of mithril combs with jade inlays on the flat handles. The combs range in size and wideness depending on where on the wing they'll be used, going from wide-toothed ones for lifting and separating the largest feathers to fine-toothed ones for the tiniest ones. Barry recognizes them as Taako's personal set of grooming combs that Magnus gave him ages ago. All of the flock had been gifted with a set of combs; Barry's have lapis lazuli set into the inlays. He hasn't seen them since he was banished. As far as he knows, they're still in his warded quarters in the Halls if the rooms have been left alone.

Barry highly doubts it, but he can always hope.

Taako and Lup start setting his wings to rights, their gentle chatter back and forth washing over Barry as he rests his chin on his folded arms. He closes his eyes, occasionally adding a comment here and there if a question is directed his way but otherwise keeping quiet. It takes them an hour or so to finish the job, and Barry's almost asleep again by the time they're done. He stirs and then stretches his wings once the twins move away.

It's been so long since all of his feathers have been in their proper place that he's forgotten how good it feels. A soft noise from Lup has Barry glancing back in question. She smiles brightly at him, immediately easing the pang of worry that has shot through him.

“Your wings look great,” she explains. “They're starting to get some color back in them.”

Barry stretches one wing out to the side to investigate, nearly whacking Taako over the head as he does so. He ignores the indignant splutters as he looks at his feathers, an answering smile lighting up his face when he sees the strong hints of pale periwinkle blue starting to overtake the usual gray.

“They do look amazing,” he says, tucking his wings loosely against his back. “Thank you for helping me with them.”

“No problem,” Taako replies, vanishing the various feathers that they've removed from Barry's wings so they can't be used against him in any way. “Looking sharp there, Barry.”

Barry feels his cheeks warm gently at the compliment as he puts his wings away and then dresses again. “Thank you. I-”

He pauses when he feels his wards ping at him, his head cocking briefly to one side. Someone's requesting entrance, and judging from the familiar feel of the magical aura, it's-

“Oh, shit,” he breathes, his eyes widening. “I totally forgot about Kravitz!”

Without bothering to give the others further explanation, Barry darts out the apartment door and down the stairs, running to the ground floor and skidding to a halt at the front doors. He pants heavily for a moment before catching his breath and unlocking the doors. Kravitz is standing on the broad stone steps outside, his eyebrows rising sharply when he sees the faintly disheveled state Barry is in.

“Is everything okay?” Kravitz asks, giving him a cautious once-over. “It's been years since you've locked down the wards like this.”

Barry reaches out and gently pulls Kravitz inside and through the wards, ignoring the drow reaper's protests. The doors shut of their own accord, the locks reengaging with a push of Barry's magic.

“Everything's...” Barry sighs as he drops Kravitz's wrist. “More than a little complicated, but definitely better than it has been in a long time. I had some unexpected visitors last night and-”

“Barry? Is everything okay?”

Barry and Kravitz turn almost in unison to see Lup and Taako on the stairs, with Lup halfway down and Taako at the top. Both of them are shooting Kravitz wary looks, even with the relaxed way Barry is acting around him.

“It's, uh, all good,” Barry tells them. “This is Kravitz. Lup; he's the one I was telling you about last night.”

“The reaper?” Lup flicks her fingers, extinguishing the faint flames glimmering there. Barry has little doubt she would've caught Kravitz with a fireball or three if he'd actually been a danger, flammable books and shelves be damned.

He nods. “Yeah. He's cool.”

“Barry?”

“Oh! Kravitz, this is Lup and her brother, Taako. They're part of my... my flock. Lup, Taako, this is Kravitz, one of the Raven Queen's reapers and a good friend of mine.”

Taako leans against the handrail on the stairs and waves lazily at them. “Yo.”

“Man of few words?” Kravitz asks, some of the tension draining out of him.

“No, it's getting him to shut up that's the trick,” Lup drawls as she finishes descending the staircase. “Nice to meet you, Kravitz. Any friend of Barry's is usually a friend of ours.”

“Usually?”

Lup shrugs. “We've only just met you. We'll see how things go.”

Kravitz considers that and then nods before turning back to Barry. “Hey, can we talk privately real quick?”

Barry glances at the others and then follows him over to a nearby aisle. Kravitz casts a quick privacy ward that renders their voices to unintelligible static to anyone outside the ward, as well as blurring their faces slightly to prevent lip-reading.

“I thought you said your flock didn't exist any more,” Kravitz says once the ward is up and running, “that none of them would have anything to do with you.”

“That's what I thought,” Barry says with a helpless shrug. “They just turned up last night, along with-” He lowers his voice even though there's no need to given that the ward encompasses them on all sides. “Along with Angus.”

“Angus?”

Barry waves an absent hand. “Our Creator. It's what They're going by these days. They've been walking the world ever since They left the Halls of Creation. It's, uh, it's good that you came today, actually. They'll probably want to talk to you and eventually the Raven Queen.”

Kravitz frowns at that. “Why do They want to talk to Her?”

“It's a story better told by Them, trust me,” Barry says. “Do you think you can get us an audience with Her?”

Kravitz runs a hand over the neat and close-cropped beard that covers his jaw, the hair rasping gently against his scythe-calloused palm, and then nods. “I can try,” he says finally. “I can't promise anything, though.”

“If you can do anything at all, it would be amazing,” Barry tells him with a thankful smile. “Trust me when I say it's very important for Angus to speak with Her.”

“I'm guessing this means our weekly card game is off?”

Barry lets out a huff of dry laughter and then sling his arm around Kravitz's shoulders as they leave the cover of the aisle, the privacy ward fading away behind them. “Bud, if you manage to pull off a meeting with the Raven Queen, we can see about doing a whole damn _tournament_ if you want.”


	5. Ghosts that We Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Death and Fate join the discussion, a flight is taken, and old friends and new allies are met.

Kravitz takes off shortly after Angus tells him Their story, heading to the Raven Queen's realm to speak with his goddess. While he speaks with Her, the others stay at the library. Barry keeps it closed, tweaking the wards to allow Kravitz in and out freely while continuing to keep others out. They settle in to wait for word, Barry eventually digging out a pack of cards for himself, Lup, and Taako to play with while Angus delves back into Their _Caleb Cleveland_ book.

The game of poker quickly turns uncivilized, with everyone cheating wildly and having far too much fun passing the time as they wait for Kravitz to return. It's around dinner time when that happens, the wards pinging gently against Barry's magic to announce Kravitz's arrival.

“Hey, how'd it go?” Barry asks, pausing in the middle of putting together a BLT with extra bacon.

Kravitz gives him a small smile. “She's agreed to a meeting,” he announces, and then tilts his head to the left slightly. “Think you've got enough bacon there?”

“Never,” Barry retorts with a quick flash of a grin, adding one more slice of bacon- there's plenty left for the others, so he doesn't feel guilty about doing so -before closing the sandwich. “Feel free to grab something to eat if you want.” He pauses. “Unless we need to go right away?”

Kravitz shakes his head. “No, no set time; just when you're all ready to go.” He eyes the sandwich makings contemplatively. “Maybe later. Thank you, though.”

Barry nods and then heads over to the table, taking a seat next to Taako. The twins are in the middle of a vicious and very complex game that Barry doesn't entirely know the rules for, assuming that there have been any rules from the start. Taako glances up when he sits down, pausing when he realizes that Kravitz is there too.

“Hey, Bones. Want to join in?” he asks with a flirty smile.

Kravitz looks over the cards spread out on the table and then frowns. “I have no idea what you're playing,” he admits, “but I'd be happy to learn.”

“Maybe later,” Lup says, gathering up the cards. “We have more important things to do once we're all fed and watered.”

Barry hums in agreement, his mouth full of BLT, or otherwise he'd have agreed with actual words. Once he finishes his sandwich and puts everything away with a push of magic, the five of them get ready to leave for their meeting. Barry hesitates before conjuring a plain black open robe and then shrugging it on, trying to make his casual look a bit more formal given who they're meeting. Lup eyes him contemplatively before grinning and snapping her fingers. The black robe changes style and color, turning a deep crimson with subtle feather patterns embroidered around the cuffs and hem in a slightly lighter hue.

She conjures a similar one out of thin air, swirling it around her shoulders with flair. Taako sighs heavily before materializing his own robes, the cloth ruffling neatly into place around his body.

“Let's head out, my dudes,” he announces. “Care to give us a lift, reaper man?”

Kravitz blinks briefly before holding out a hand and letting an elegantly deadly scythe appear there. One swift slice through thin air later and a portal rips into existence, the dark halls of the Raven Queen's domain visible on the other side.

Angus squares Their shoulders and then steps through the rift fearlessly, head held high. Kravitz hurries after Them, the others following close behind. The rift snaps shut after them, sealing off the exit to the Prime Material plane for the time being.

Barry glances around, noting the dark stone walls and floors and the flickering torches. It's a fitting aesthetic, he supposes, but one that's rather gloomy. Kravitz leads them through the halls, eventually pausing outside a set of ornate double doors that have a pair of crossed scythes with a raven's skull over top engraved on them. He takes an unnecessary deep breath, lets it out slowly, and then pushes the doors open.

Beyond is the Raven Queen's throne room, and it's here that Barry sees the first hint of color in Her realm. He focuses on a woman sitting to the right of the jet black throne that dominates the far end of the room, his attention caught by the multicolored scarf that's emerging from the gently clacking knitting needles. Lup nudges him gently and then nods towards the throne, making Barry realize that it's actually occupied.

At first he thinks it's just sitting in thick shadows, but as they draw near, the shadows coalesce into the shape of a woman who's at the very least eight feet tall. Her humanoid form is elegant and oddly not disrupted by the fact that She wears a bone-white raven's skull as a mask, the skull enlarged to such a degree as to appear almost as if it is Her head and not just covering it- or so Barry assumes. She wears a simple black gown, the ends of the long bell-sleeves barely brushing the floor as She rises from Her throne.

“ **Greetings,** ” She intones, Her voice echoing with the deep thrum of dying heartbeats and the faint wails of mourners in the distance. She focuses on Angus, head cocking mildly to one side. “ **Architect. It has been some time since You have walked these halls. Kravitz tells Me we have much to speak about.** ”

Angus nods, Their gaze flicking over to the knitting woman before returning back to the Raven Queen. “Yes. And for now, please just call me Angus. I don't think standing on formalities will help us here. I would say I'm surprised to see you here, Istus, but given the situation, maybe not so much.”

The knitting woman looks up, an amused smile lighting up her face. “Oh, like I would miss this,” she says, setting her knitting aside as she gets to her feet. She's easily as tall as the Raven Queen, her long silvery-white hair falling in waves along her back.

“Fate and death have long been intertwined,” Istus continues on, coming to a halt next to the Raven Queen. She reaches out and takes one of Her hands, loosely intertwining their fingers. “Perhaps more obviously here than other realities, of course, but the thought remains the same.”

“Of course,” Angus says with a small smile. “Is there somewhere we can speak that would be comfortable for all of us?”

The Raven Queen nods and then gestures with Her free hand. A large round table appears out of thin air, its glossy black surface seeming to be made of obsidian. Seven chairs follow shortly after, all of them with plump cushioning on the backs and seats. They settle in around the table, Istus picking up her knitting once she's settled.

“So,” she says, the gentle click of her needles underpinning her words, “why don't we start at the beginning?”

  


The meeting lasts for several hours, though time is hard to track in the Raven Queen's corner of the Celestial Plane. Barry can feel his energy flagging after a while, his body too used to a set schedule of sleep, waking, and eating. It's a rare problem for a celestial being to have, but spending so long on the Prime Material plane and blending in with its inhabitants tends to leave a mark. He forces himself not to nod off, and during a break in the talks, walks around in an attempt to get his energy back up.

He turns when he hears a call from Lup, surprised to see her with her wings showing given that she's had them tucked away all this time. They're the same vibrant cascade of reds, oranges, and yellows that he remembers, a startling clash of colors against the blacks and grays of their surroundings.

“Oh- um, sorry, say that again?” Barry asks, giving her a sheepish smile. “I didn't quite catch it.”

Lup smiles at him, his heart skipping a beat in conditioned response to the sight. “I asked if you wanted to go flying,” she says. “Kravitz is off showing Taako around, and Angus is still talking with Istus and the Raven Queen. They promised to call us back once everything's done.”

Barry glances over at the three gods to see them deep in conversation. He smiles when he sees that both Istus and the Raven Queen have adjusted their heights to be more regularly adult human-sized so they don't completely overwhelm Angus while they converse. Lup's comment replays in his mind, making him pause.

“Wait, Kravitz and Taako-?”

“Yeah. I'm not gonna get in the way of that,” Lup says with a shrug. “If they want to hang, then I'm all for it. Kravitz seems like a good guy.”

“He is,” Barry assures her. He glances at the gods again and then back at her. “Where did you have in mind?”

Lup reaches out and takes his hand, her smile widening into a grin that does all sorts of things to Barry's insides. “Let me show you.”

  


They leave the Raven Queen's realm faster than thought, slipping between realms until they're standing on a mountain's peak somewhere in the Prime Material plane. It's still dark here, but not for long. Barry can see the first hints of sunrise on the horizon, the sky starting to slowly light up in faint pinks and golds. He lets his wings appear, the snow around him spraying outwards some as the long primaries brush through it and throw up the top layer. He carefully stretches them out, first the left then the right, not wanting to strain anything, especially not after all the work Angus has done to heal him.

Barry looks up to see Lup watching him with an expression that he has no hope of deciphering. He lets his wings- currently a pale slate blue with flecks of darker gray scattered like freckles across the feathers -fold loosely against his back, feeling more than a little nervous under her undivided attention. She looks away eventually, though Barry is reasonably sure she's seen deeper into his being than anyone else has in the past ten thousand years. It both frightens and elates him that Lup thinks him worthy of that kind of intense attention.

“So,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice steady, “where are we?”

“Well, I figured that somewhere quiet and remote would be best,” Lup says, her wings falling and rising with her shoulders as she shrugs, “though we can always fly around a bit and go somewhere more populated. We'd just have to keep unseen.”

Barry thinks it over and then nods. “Sure,” he says, letting his magic shift around him so he's not noticeable. He makes sure Lup can still see and hear him, though. It's easier than phasing entirely out of the visible spectrum, especially when it comes to those who have a higher perception than most. He's found that sapient beings tend to ignore what they don't deem as important, but sure as hell will focus on something that _should_ be there but isn't.

He can't tell, but he figures Lup does something similar before she takes a running start and leaps off the nearest available high ledge, an excited laugh trailing her as she free-falls. Barry's heartbeat thumps in his ears as time stretches like taffy until Lup rises back into view, her wings spread wide as she catches a thermal and spirals lazily upwards. Barry takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow stream before launching himself into the air with a small burst of magic and several powerful down-sweeps of his wings, relaxing when he finds the edge of the thermal and the wind assists in his ascent.

Lup flies close enough to him and then casts a spell; Barry's trust in her is still so absolute that he doesn't even bother trying to resist, knowing she would rather harm herself first than intentionally cause any hurt to come to him or any others. The warmth of her magic curls around the two of them, sinking into the skin behind their ears and the bases of their throats before dissipating.

“There we go,” she says, and her voice is as clear to Barry as if they were still back in the quiet throne room of the Raven Queen, the wind rushing past and the distance between them all but negated due to the magic. “Much better. This way we can actually talk and not worry about being too close or too far.”

Barry shoots her a quick smile. “Great thinking. Since you chose the spot, care to lead the way?”

Lup nods, pivoting in the air and then shooting off across the sky in a blur of reds, oranges, and yellows that match the brilliant sunrise. Barry follows after her, unable to stop the joyous laughter from escaping him as he revels in his freedom.

  


The two of them fly for quite some time, the sky settling into a gorgeous blue with the occasional puffy white cloud slowly lumbering across it. Roughly near lunch time, they land in a clearing near a city Barry vaguely recognizes as Raven's Roost, the three bridged pillars that support the city rising high into the air above them. He follows Lup's example and hides his wings away before releasing the twist of magic hiding him from notice, needing neither now that they're ground-bound for the time being.

Lup takes his hand, loosely intertwining their fingers as they walk up the winding road to Raven's Roost. Barry lets himself pretend for a little while that the hand-holding means more than it actually does, that the simple gesture of familiarity between them holds greater weight than just mere points of contact. Reality reasserts itself when Lup lets go of his hand in order to better fully illustrate the idea she's talking about. He hums in agreement, doing his best to keep his disappointment off his face as they enter the city.

It's bustling with people as they go to and from various buildings and shops on their day to day business, the sounds of laughter, arguments, and general chattering in various languages filling the air. Lup sticks close to him, eventually looping her arm through his so they aren't separated by the crowd. The scent of spiced roast meat draws them to an open-air square in the Craftsman's Corridor, the smell setting both of their stomachs rumbling. They buy two meat kebabs each off the vendor there, taking a seat on a bench that's out of the way.

Barry's barely bitten into his first kebab when Lup lets out a surprised shout. He turns just in time to see a scruffy looking dog running away into a nearby alley, his other kebab clenched between its teeth. Barry's after it before he can stop to think, Lup following quickly behind him. It's not really the loss of the kebab that he minds- he can always buy another, after all -but he doesn't want the dog to get hurt from the wooden stick as it eats the meat.

The dog leads them on a merry chase, eventually coming to a halt in a secluded area behind some buildings. Barry uses a bit of magic to freeze the dog in place and then remove the stick from the meat before letting the dog free. The dog eats its stolen meal warily, snapping up the chunks of meat as quickly as it can from the ground where they've fallen. Barry and Lup watch it eat from a distance, Lup conjuring up a bowl of never-ending fresh water for it with a snap of her fingers.

It's while they're watching the dog lap gratefully at the water when a shadow falls across them, blocking the early afternoon sun. Barry turns to look up at the being that's interrupted them, frowning when the sun briefly blocks their features from being seen. Not too long after that, he finds himself being hauled to his feet with a squawk from the crouch he'd taken to watch the dog and then pulled into an achingly tight and familiar hug.

“Barry! What the hell are you doing here?” Magnus asks as he sets Barry back down on his feet. His excitement only grows when he spots Lup. “Lup! You're alive!”

Lup laughs as she stands and then is quickly pulled into a hug as well. “I am,” she confirms, rocking back on her heels once Magnus lets her go. “How've you been, Mags? It's been ages.”

Magnus's grin is infectious, and he's radiating the kind of simple, pleased joy of a child on Candlenights day. “I've been great,” he says. “We've got to catch up. You've got time, right?”

Barry hesitates before answering. “I... I'm not sure,” he replies. “Some, I think, but bud... it's not gonna be all sunshine and roses.”

Magnus waves that off and then gestures for them to follow him, scooping the dog up in his arms. The dog looks quite content to be there, snuggling in against Magnus's broad chest. “It's alright. C'mon, you've _got_ to meet Julia. She's gonna love you two.”

Barry and Lup exchange a look. This is the first Barry's ever heard of a Julia in association with Magnus, but then again, it's been... Well. Quite some time since he and Magnus have run into one another. All too soon they're ensconced in a back room of a cozy temple, the main sanctuary and the courtyard outside littered with dogs of varying shapes and sizes. They all seem to be getting along with barely any quarrel, and small shrines for various minor deities and holy patrons are scattered about the courtyard and sanctuary.

Julia turns out to be a lovely half-orc woman who, they're told, used to be an acolyte of the Temple of Small Gods before the main caretaker passed away some years ago. She and Magnus fell in love before she ever knew he was a celestial being, and being married to him has granted her near-immortality. She can still get sick and eventually die, but it'll be a very, very long time before that happens. Now she and Magnus run the temple, caring for those who happen across it as well as the stray dogs that congregate there.

“So,” Magnus says once they've all been provided with mugs of coffee or tea depending on their tastes, “what did you mean by it's not gonna be all sunshine and roses, Barry?”

Barry takes a sip of his coffee to fortify himself before launching into the story of what he knows and what he's been told, Lup adding clarifying points here and there as needed. Once he finishes with his story, Magnus sits back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the polished surface of the table.

“We've got to go.”

He turns to look at Julia, surprise clear on his face. “Jules?”

“We both know you're physically incapable of not helping someone when they need it,” she says, arching an eyebrow pointedly at him. “And I might not be a god or an angel or anything like that, but I want to help, and it sounds like it's going to be an all-hands-on-deck kind of thing.”

“She's not wrong,” Lup adds, and then holds up a hand when Magnus looks at her sharply. “I'm not saying she should be front line against the Hunger itself, but we can use all the help we can get. It's not going to matter who's doing the helping when push comes to shove.”

“We're still some hands short,” Barry muses, thinking over the prophecy Paloma's given him. “We need to get Merle, Dav, and Lucretia at the very least, and as many of the other gods as we can.”

“Well, that's mostly Angus's job,” Lup says, looking determined. “We can handle the rest.”

Barry runs a hand over his face before looking around the table. “I think,” he says finally, “that we need to save Lucretia for last. I can't... I don't know how easily I'll be able to get through the Halls, especially not since I'm really, really not supposed to be there, at least according to the Council and popular opinion.”

“We'll figure it out when we get there, babe,” Lup says, patting his hand. “Let's focus on the easy ones first. Merle will probably be with Pan, or at least Pan will know where's he's at, so really all we need to find on our own is Davenport.”

“Last I knew, he was on the Endless Sea,” Barry says, getting to his feet. “It's as good a place to start as any.”

“I'm still coming with you,” Julia insists, standing up along with the others. “The dogs have more than enough food and water to last some time.”

The sheepish smile on Magnus's face has Barry thinking he's had something to do with that, but he doesn't say anything. The four of them leave in a rush of magic and wings, appearing on a weathered dock that juts into the sea. Barry takes his shoes off and then sits down on the end of the dock, Lup and Magnus standing back with Julia.

The water laps at Barry's toes as he closes his eyes and turns his focus inwards towards a place he's carefully locked away from his more demonic influences over the past millennia since he's carried that title. The flock bonds are faded mostly, though four of the seven have started to brighten back to what they once were. Barry trails his magic over the brighter ones as he gathers his courage and strength, and then focuses on the one that still echoes faintly with the sure competence and intelligence he's always associated with Davenport.

Barry touches it with his magic and then _pulls,_ hoping against hope that there'll be an answer. When he opens his eyes, he sees a white sail on the horizon. He gets to his feet, his stomach churning as the sailboat approaches the dock, eventually coming to a gentle halt alongside it. Magnus ties off the rope that's tossed out to him on a hitching cleat on the dock, a broad grin on his face.

A gnome with long hair that's been tied loosely back at the nape of his neck with a dark green ribbon leans over the side of the railing, looking over the assembled group with a keen eye before his gaze settles on Barry.

“Of all the people in the world to ruin my fishing trip, it would be you, wouldn't it?”

Barry shrugs, unable to keep the fondly amused expression off his face at the gentle teasing. “Oh, you know me, Dav. I'm always needing help getting out of trouble.”

Davenport hops down from the boat onto the dock, his boots hitting the wood with a thud.

“In that case,” he says, looking around at the others, “fill me in and I'll see what I can do to lend a hand.”


	6. Renegades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which even more allies are gathered, a return is made, and the final member of the flock is met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there is a non-graphic description of a character having a panic attack due to a situation later in the chapter. If that is the sort of thing that bothers you, it begins at the sentence 'As they turn the corner, they're suddenly blinded, deafened, and immobilized by magic. ' and ends at 'He has no true idea how long he'd been under the grasp of the magics keeping him immobile, but regardless of how long it actually was, it was far too long.'

The five of them sit on Davenport's sailboat for a while, with the angels- it's strange for Barry to think that of himself after so long as identifying as a demon -catching up and reminiscing about old times. Magnus pulls out some of the more outrageous stories in an effort to make Julia laugh, often at his own expense. Barry can't help but smile at the way they interact together, their deep and abiding love clear for one another. He does feel a faint pang of jealousy that makes him ashamed to have even experienced it. True love like that should be cherished and celebrated, not envied and lusted after.

He pushes his jealousy aside, knowing that it serves no purpose, and then focuses instead on the conversation at hand.

“So,” Lup is saying, “have you talked to Merle recently?”

A fond smile forms on Davenport's face. He glances over at a vase holding an array of colorful chrysanthemums, freesias, and lilacs that sits on a side table, the blossoms as fresh and fragrant as the day they were picked.

“Just before I left, actually,” he says, “so a few weeks ago.”

“Do you have any quicker way to call him than pulling on the flock bond?” Lup asks. “Because we need to talk to him and honestly, to Pan as well.”

“Given what you've told me, I can see why,” Davenport replies, looking thoughtful. “And to answer your question, we do have Stones of Far Speech that I've tweaked to work between realms.” He laughs. “Of course, that assumes he doesn't have it on mute.”

He gets up and fetches his Stone from his cabin below deck, returning shortly afterwards. He sits back down and then activates the Stone, selecting the correct frequency and then letting the signal go through. The Stone chimes gently several times before Merle picks up.

“Dav! What's going on? Gettin' lonely out there on the big blue sea?”

“Merle, I'm docked and not alone,” Davenport says immediately in response to Merle's slightly lascivious tone. “Now's not the time for that kind of thing.”

“Party-pooper,” Merle grumbles. “What's going on? Why do you have guests?”

Lup clears her throat and then leans forward so she can be heard. “Well, Merle, it's pretty much like this: there's a big fuck-off asshole of a primordial force who's been eating small gods for the past ten thousand years and now it's coming after the big boys, Angus- the Creator -included. We need all the help we can get to stop it.”

There's silence for a long moment before Merle speaks, surprise evident in his voice. “Lup? You're _alive_?”

“Alive and kicking,” Lup says with a grin, “along with Taako and a few others. So... You up for helping us to kick some ass?”

“Always. What do you need me to do?”

“Well, we need to talk to Pan. To be honest, if we can get Him in the same place with the other elder gods, then they can hold their own talks while we go and recruit more help,” Taako jumps in. “Think you can swing that?”

“Why don't I go and see?”

“No, wait, Merle, remember about--” Davenport begins, and then quickly backs away from the table and claps his hands over his ears. The others stare at him in bemusement before they find out the reason. Pan is _loud,_ especially when magnified over the Stone of Far Speech.

“MERLE! HOW CAN I HELP YOU TODAY, MY FRIEND?”

“Heya, Pan,” Merle replies, seemingly unconcerned about the volume at which his god is speaking. He repeats what Lup has told him. Pan's quiet for several blessed seconds before He speaks again, but this time the listeners are ready to cover their ears and back away like Davenport has already done.

“I WILL MEET WITH MY SIBLINGS IN THE CELESTIAL PLANE. PERHAPS ISTUS WILL BE WILLING TO HOLD THE MEETING AT HER HOME. I'LL SEND YOU AS MY EMISSARY, MERLE, SO YOU CAN PREPARE THE WAY.”

“Sure thing, Pan my man,” Merle says easily. “See ya then.”

There's the sound of movement and then it's just Merle again. “See? Not too hard.”

“Merle, we've talked about this before,” Davenport says, sighing softly. “You've got to turn down the volume if you've got your Stone on around Pan.”

“No idea how to do that,” Merle replies, his tone cheery. “I take it you'll be joining in on this party?”

“I'll be there, along with the others,” Davenport tells him, a small smile on his face. “I don't know how long we'll be there at the meeting; I'm guessing we'll be sent out to recruit more help as time goes on.”

“Alright, great. See everyone soon!”

They can hear Merle fumble with his Stone, swearing softly in the background until the sound suddenly cuts off. Davenport shuts his Stone off before slipping it into a pocket with a fondly amused smile.

“He never learns,” he says, shaking his head a little. “So, the ship'll be safe enough while we're doing what needs to be done. It's a pretty well protected cove here, and no one else docks here besides me anyways.”

“Perfect,” Magnus says with a grin, his arm slung around Julia's shoulders. “We'll join up with Merle and the others in the Celestial Plane and then go from there.”

“That's the easy part,” Taako says as he gets to his feet. “After that is when the _real_ fun begins.”

  


Once everyone's reunited in the Celestial Plane and the elder gods are speaking with one another, the six former flockmates and Julia settle in a corner of Istus's domain, relaxing in the sun that seems to be eternally pouring down onto the grassy meadow the goddess of fate has claimed for her own. After a while, Angus breaks away from the small council and then heads over to them.

“So,” They say as they stop in front of the group, “we're going to need some help.”

“Anything,” Magnus says immediately, the others nodding or making sounds of agreement around him.

“We need you to help recruit more people. Specifically, more celestials like yourselves,” Angus continues on. “While we can command people to fight, we prefer to give them a choice of whether or not they want to join the fight.. Besides, some of us don't exactly have ready and available warriors on a moment's notice. Pan's going to reach out to some of the dwarven and gnomish gods to see if they'll be able to add to our numbers. Taako, I want you to go with Kravitz. He'll be a big help rounding up the reapers and other agents of Istus and the Raven Queen. Magnus, I'd like you, Davenport, and Julia to go with Merle. You'll be working to get Pan's people organized, as well as any others who're willing to fight.”

They turn to Barry and Lup with a lopsided smile. “Barry, I want you and Lup to go to the Halls of Creation. I'll go there eventually to reclaim it once this is over and done with, but I want you two to scout ahead and see what it's like before I have to go in there in My full glory.”

Barry frowns. “I don't... I have no idea what it's going to be like,” he says finally. “It's been so long, and I haven't had any contact with anyone since... Well.”

“Since they threw you out like a bad cabbage,” Lup says with a deep frown. “Not gonna lie, I don't know if I feel all that charitable towards people who do shit like that.”

“Not all of them were at fault,” Barry tells her with a slight shrug. “You can't blame all of them.”

Lup sighs. “You're a better person than I am in that regard right now.”

“I have time to come to terms with it, is all,” Barry says. He turns back to Angus, giving Them a small, tight smile. “We'll go, of course we will. Did... Do you want me to see if any of the demons want to help as well?”

“Barry-”

“Lup, it's worth asking,” he interrupts her, and then winces. “Sorry, but it's true.”

Angus holds up a hand. “It's not a bad idea,” They say, “but let's put a hold on it for now until after you get back. One thing at a time unless absolutely necessary.”

“Alright, easy. We'll go there, drum up support, and then come back with the others as soon as we can,” Lup says. “Should we bring them here or somewhere else?”

“Here's good for now,” Angus tells them. “If that changes, I'll let you know.”

Barry nods and then looks at Lup. “Shall we?”

Lup smiles, the expression tense.

“Let's go.”

  


The Halls of Creation are eerily silent when Lup and Barry arrive in the main atrium, their wings visible but in muted hues so as to not attract too much attention. Even the sound of the fountain in the center is absent, adding to the eerie atmosphere. Barry cautiously heads over to the fountain, his quiet gasp of dismay seeming to echo far too loudly in the hush of the atrium when he sees that it has been destroyed by something, the water having long since run dry in the midst of the rubble.

Lup joins him at the fountain and places a hand on his shoulder, knowing how much he had loved sitting by the fountain to work.

“Let's keep moving,” she murmurs, keeping her voice down. Barry nods reluctantly and steps away from the fountain before heading for the nearest exit. Neither of them want to linger long nor speak too loudly, feeling as if doing either will summon ill fortunes. The deeper they go into the Halls, the more signs of destruction and battle they come across. Lup grabs Barry's hand as they walk. He doesn't begrudge her the comfort; in fact, he welcomes it, relishing in her warm presence that anchors him to the here and now.

As they reach the residential halls, they see their first sign of life in the form of a flash of pale purple feathers as someone rounds a corner down the hall. They exchange a glance and then hurry after their fellow angel, their footsteps echoing in the empty hall. As they turn the corner, they're suddenly blinded, deafened, and immobilized by magic. Lup and Barry are unable to resist as they're dragged off by many hands, the spells keeping them from knowing where they're going or where each other are.

Barry _hates_ it. He's never liked the dark, but this? Being immobilized and unable to see or hear? It's worse than any torture he's undergone in his years as a demon or angel. He's trying not to panic but it's all but fucking impossible. Just as the panic is rising to its peak, the world rushes back into place around him as he's thrown to the ground in a dimly lit room.

Barry gasps sharply, feeling like he's just broken the surface of deep water. His fingers curl hard against the marble floor as the panic shudders through him, his breathing coming in short and shallow pants. His hearing is nothing but white noise that fades ever so slowly, other sounds starting to filter in. There are people nearby who are arguing, and from what Barry's fear-soaked brain can decipher, they're talking about whether or not the Director, whoever that might be, should be told about their captives.

The voices aren't familiar to Barry, but then again, he's been gone for quite some time and the method for making more angels that doesn't involve Angus's personal touch isn't exactly a secret, so it's entirely possible that he's never met their owners before.

“The Director is going to kill us!” one of them is saying as Barry rouses. “You know we're not supposed to directly engage with the enemy!”

“We don't know if these two are the enemy or not,” the other retorts. Barry slowly opens his eyes, some of his panic draining when he sees Lup sprawled on the floor near him. He inches his hand across the small gap between them, relief flooding through him when he makes contact and can feel the warmth of Lup's skin against his own. It's the work of a few more seconds to loosely slot their fingers together, and when he does, he can feel Lup flex her fingers a little, which makes Barry think she's either aware or getting to that point.

His rapid breathing slows and then steadies. Lup is alive and maybe not well if his own experience is anything to go by, but as least she's still there with him. The other two angels keep arguing as they leave the room, the door shutting and locking behind them with an ominous thud and sharp click. Barry waits another minute and then slowly sits up, every inch of him stiff and aching. He has no true idea how long he'd been under the grasp of the magics keeping him immobile, but regardless of how long it actually was, it was far too long.

Beside him, Lup sits up as well, her free hand rising to her temple as she hisses in pain.

“What, and I cannot emphasize this enough, the _fuck_?”

“I have no idea,” Barry says, reluctantly starting to let go of her hand so she can use it freely. Lup tightens her grip on his hand, shooting him a faintly panicked look. Barry doesn't like seeing that on her face, so he continues on, squeezing her hand. “Let's try to get out of here. I don't know if we're going to find any help considering their reaction to us.”

Lup bites her bottom lip, worrying at it with her teeth as she thinks. “Maybe we should see why they captured us first,” she says eventually. “There has to be a reason, and I want to know what the hell's been going on here since you left.”

Barry sighs. “Yeah, alright.” He looks around, noting that they seem to be in what looks like a holding cell judging from the very plain bed, a toilet in a corner, and not much else. The door leading out is heavily reinforced, and the weighty press of suppression wards around them tells him that the chances of escape are minimal if not impossible. He doubts they'll be escaping any time soon, even with his former suggestion.

They move to the bed to wait, as it's far more comfortable than the marble floor. Lup curls up against him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Barry loosely drapes a wing around her, offering as much comfort as he's getting from her. They stay like that for some time, recovering from their magically-induced ordeal as they chat about anything save for why they're actually there just in case they're being watched and listened to via magic.

Time passes slowly. Lup is napping against Barry's shoulder when the door unlocks and then opens, letting light pour into the holding cell. Four burly angels bustle them out of the holding cell and through the halls, surrounding them closely enough that they have no chance of escape. Barry's eerily reminded of his sham of a trial and subsequent banishment from the Halls, which is doing nothing for his anxiety. He keeps hold of Lup's hand, using it to anchor him in the here and now as they're hustled along.

They're taken to a room that Barry realizes with a start is one of the more heavily protected Archives. The seemingly unending rows of bookshelves and pigeonholes for scrolls are still there, filled with the documents the archivists have collected over the millennia. Their escorts take them deep in the Archives, stopping outside what Barry thinks is a secure research room, one of them knocking three times on the heavy mithril door.

The door swings inward silently speaking to its craftsmanship. Barry barely gets time to examine the sprawling room beyond before he and Lup are guided in, the door shutting behind their group. Their final destination ends up being a large office on an upper level of the room that had likely at one point belong to one of the Head Archivists. One of their guards steps away to enter the office, checking with its occupant and then returning to finish his escort mission. Barry and Lup get led in and then pushed down to their knees in front of a heavy oak desk, their guards taking little care for their comfort.

“Alright, boys, what have you brought m- _Barry?_ _Lup?_ ”

Barry's head snaps up as the Director rounds her desk, his eyes wide. She's regal in robes of white and blue that match her wings. Her face is far older than he remembers, but there's no mistaking her.

“Lucretia? What happened to you?!” he blurts out, unable to hold back the comment.

She stares at them, looking just as startled by their presence as they are with hers.

“Ma'am? Is everything alright?” one of the guards asks.

Lucretia flicks her wings as she quickly recalibrates. “Yes, everything's fine, thank you, Josef,” she says. “You and the others can go. These two... they're old friends, and I know for a fact neither would be aligned with _her._ ”

The guards look confused but exit the office nonetheless, shutting the door behind them once they're gone. There's a tense silence until Lucretia raises a privacy ward with a flick of her hand. The gesture is so familiar to both Barry and Lup, bringing back memories of better, simpler times when a quick privacy ward meant the sharing of a juicy piece of gossip or a ridiculous joke that would otherwise gather too much attention with the laughter that ensued.

“You two-- I don't-- Please, you don't have to kneel,” Lucretia says, reaching out to help them to their feet. Lup doesn't waste any time and pulls Lucretia into a tight hug, the colors in her wings brightening as she does so. Lucretia hugs her back, her wings fluttering gently in her pleasure. Barry can't help but smile at that. Lucretia's always been good at keeping her emotions under wraps, but her wings often give her away with their unconscious movements.

Once Lup lets her go, Barry gathers Lucretia into a hug as well, noting the faint trembling in her fingers as she curls them into the fabric of his shirt while she returns the embrace.

“What are you- I don't understand,” she says once she lets him go. “You were banished from the Halls. I thought you couldn't return without serious harm.”

Barry smiles lopsidedly. “Death, actually. They dipped the brand into the _Relegatio_ potion before they applied it as a way to further add insult to injury quite literally. They proclaimed me a demon for something I didn't do. Just tell me this: who's the head of R&D now?”

“Well, back when that was still a thing, Lucas,” Lucretia says as she returns to the chair behind her desk. Two comfortable chairs appear for Barry and Lup to sit in, something they do gratefully. “Something tells me we all have long stories to tell one another.”

“Yeah, we do,” Lup agrees. “You first, though. What the fuck happened to this place?”

Lucretia sighs heavily, one hand rising to rub at a temple. “Civil war, mainly,” she says. “It all started about... Hm. Three thousand years ago? One side has proclaimed that the Creator is either dead or has abandoned us entirely and is therefore not relevant or worthy of our respect and worship, while the other side believes that the Creator is still alive and will one day return to us.”

“I'm assuming you're leading the latter side?” Barry asks, hoping that the answer is yes.

Lucretia nods. “I am. Lydia is leading the other. We have some agents in her camp that say she's more than likely working with her brother, Edward.”

Barry stiffens. “Edward? As in the leader of the _demons_? That Edward?”

“The one and the same,” Lucretia says grimly. “We think they've been working together for a long time. He's one of the first demons after all, and something tells me he wasn't actually banished from the Halls but left voluntarily.”

“Well, shit,” Lup says, leaning back in her chair. “That's going to complicate things.”

“Oh? How so?” Lucretia asks.

Lup starts explaining the situation, Barry chiming in every so often when he feels like he can contribute to the story. Lucretia listens intently, occasionally making notes in a journal.

“So, the Creator is alive and is trying to raise an army to fight against Their ancient evil twin before he can consume the elder gods?” she sums up once the story is over.

“Essentially, yeah,” Lup confirms. “Think you'd be up for helping us fight? Angus is going to come back and reclaim the Halls once everything is said and done, assuming we win.”

Lucretia runs a hand over her mouth, thinking.

“Well,” she says after a long stretch of silence, “I don't know how many of my people will want to join a new fight, but I'll help you in whatever way I can personally.”

Barry can't help but feel relieved at that, the thought that Paloma's prophecy is starting to take shape now that his flock has been all but reunited comforting him immensely. Of course, prophecies don't always turn out the way people hope they will, but Barry has every faith that they'll make it through this and out the other side as long as they stay and fight together.


	7. I Know These Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Halls of Creation are reclaimed, battles are fought, and truths revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost 8K words long... have fun!

Lup leaves to go tell Angus what's going on, as while the plan to reclaim the Halls of Creation after the final battle had been a good idea initially, the old adage of no plan surviving first contact has held true. Barry stays behind with Lucretia, hoping to help her and the others prepare for what's to come. HE watches Lucretia work with her people, a proud feeling welling up as he sees the amount of respect his sister in all but blood garners from the others.

During a lull in the conversations when Lucretia is alone, Barry approaches her, clearing his throat gently. “Oh, Barry! I apologize. I didn't mean to ignore you all this time,” Lucretia says, giving him a tired flash of a smile. Barry shakes his head.

“Don't worry about it, 'Cretia. I don't mind. Besides, you seem to have things well in hand here. There wasn't much for me to do anyways.” He pauses, sticking his hands in the pockets of his robes. “I, uh, I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but what happened to you? You weren't like this when I... when I left.”

“When you were unfairly banished, you mean,” Lucretia corrects him. “Gods, Barry, I'm so sorry for my part in that. I should've said something to speak against them. They just pulled me from my duties that day saying that they needed an official recorder and-”

Barry holds up a gentle hand to stop her. “There's no need to apologize,” he assures her. “It wasn't your fault and I never thought it was. You looked about as shocked as I was to be there. Lydia probably planned that. After all, if you thought I was a traitor, then everyone else probably would go along with it.”

Lucretia nods and tucks a lock of hair that's escaped her otherwise neat bun behind her ear to keep it out of the way. “So, to answer your question, I'm like this because of Lydia,” she tells him, leaning back against a nearby table, her wings hooding around her shoulders in a form of self-comfort Barry aches to see. “It was during a battle about two centuries ago. She hit me with a spell that aged my appearance to this.” She waves a hand at herself. “It also drained some of my casting abilities. I'm pretty sure she was trying to kill me, but as you can see, she didn't succeed.”

“Likely because you're too stubborn,” Barry teases gently, making Lucretia let out a tired laugh.

“I'll take that as a compliment,” she says, pushing away from the table and wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Barry returns it, soaking in her familiar embrace and the scent of ink and paper she's carried with her for as long as he can remember. They part after a minute or so, Lucretia discreetly brushing some tears from her cheeks and Barry pretending he doesn't see her do it.

The first hint they get of Angus and Lup's return is when what sounds like a carillon of temple bells rings out in every room of the Halls. There's barely any time to react before everyone is immediately teleported to the vast audience chamber in the center of the Halls, a place that can fit every angel in the whole of the Halls three times over. Barry finds himself at Angus's side at the front of the chamber on the raised platform there, Lup on the other side of Them.

There's a clear divide amongst the angels gathered, with Lucretia's people on one side of the hall and Lydia's on the other. The two women are at the front of their groups, Lydia with a carefully crafted blank expression on her face as she stares at Angus. Confused murmurs break out across the hall like wildfire, as the last time Angus was here, They looked nothing like what They do now, not to mention the fact that seeing a child where one expects to see a god is rather off-putting.

“And who are _you_?” Lydia drawls, her hands on her hips. “Some young godling who's decided to try to take the Creator's place? How bold of you. I don't think anyone's attempted that yet, surprisingly.”

“Oh, here we go,” Lup says with a smirk. Angus just arches an eyebrow at Lydia and then lets Their full godly aura free. Now that They're in Their domain and reconnected fully with it, They can release Their power freely without cost to Them. The aura manifests as hundreds of broad iridescent feathery wings surrounding a tall humanoid figure with indistinct features, sending shimmering prismatic beams of light across the hall. Angus's small form is barely visible in the center of the towering aura as They start to float several feet off the ground, Their power radiating throughout the hall.

Angus holds Their position for a good minute before letting Their aura fade and Their body float down to the ground. They land gently, the hard soles of Their shoes making soft clicking noises against the marble floor that seem eerily loud in the hushed silence that's filled the audience hall.

“I am the Great Architect, the Creator of this planar system and the Layer of the Firmament,” Angus says, Their voice redolent with power even though it sounds so young. “I am no mere godling pretending at power. I have been traveling the world since I left ten thousand years ago, seeing how those that live upon it have grown and made it their own. I took two of your own with Me as traveling companions. We never meant to be gone for as long as we were, but while we were gone, we discovered that an ancient enemy of Mine still lingers to this day and will soon be moving against Me and the other elder gods. I've returned here to ask for your help fighting against it.”

“And why should we help someone who abandoned us? Why should we follow You? Actually, better yet: why should we continue to _believe_ in You after all You've done?”

Soft gasps and hissing whispers echo across the hall at Lydia's blasphemous words. To leave the service of a god is one thing, and Angus has always encouraged those who have wanted to leave Their service to either work for another god or simply go their own way to do so, holding no ill will towards them, but for a celestial being to say they don't believe in a god, not to mention the one that made them in particular? That's a whole other issue.

Angus stares at her, a deep sadness in Their eyes. They take in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly before answering her, folding Their hands neatly in front of Them. Only Barry and Lup are close enough to see how much Their fingers are trembling before the movement is hidden by the gesture.

“You are of course entitled to feel that way, Lydia, and I won't stop you from leaving My service if you want, nor any others who want to follow your lead. I do regret being gone so long, and I am deeply sorry that I made you think that I abandoned you. That certainly wasn't My intention. As I said before, I didn't know I would be gone for so long. I know nothing that I can say will fix what happened nor will it bring back anyone who was lost. All I can ask is for your forgiveness and your willingness to work with Me.”

“Forgiveness?” Lydia scoffs, her neon green wings flicking dismissively. “How can You ask for something like that? Maybe some people will fall for that, but not me.” She turns to her followers, showing Angus her back. “For those of you who want to stay here, so be it. For those who actually have minds of their own, come with me. We can find our own way, or maybe an even stronger god who'll actually care about us.”

She starts walking down the aisle and towards the exit, her boots clicking decisively against the floor. As she goes, others make their way out of the crowd on either side of the aisle. By the time Lydia reaches the doors, she has a following a hundred or so strong, leaving barely twice that still standing in their original places. Barry glances over at Angus, but true to Their word, They make no move to stop the small exodus of angels, merely closing Their eyes briefly as the doors close behind the last one.

Barry rests a gentle hand on Angus's shoulder, his thumb rubbing in comforting circles just out of sight of the others. Angus glances up at him, giving him a brief smile in thanks. Barry returns it, glad he can help even just a little bit. He lets his hand fall away as Angus turns back to address those still remaining, Their posture straightening as they begin to speak once more.

“Thank you all for remaining. I know it'll take some time for Me to regain your trust again, but I promise you all, I will do My best to prove Myself worthy of that trust once more. For now, all I'm asking is that you listen to what I have to say.”

As Barry listens to Angus talk, he looks out over the crowd and watches them soaking in Their words. He can see flickers of hope running across faces and wings starting to brighten across the room, making him think of flames starting to come to life from the embers of a dying fire. It causes him to feel like they have even more of a chance of winning against the Hunger.

  


That thought is one of the farthest things from Barry's mind several weeks later. He, Lup, and Magnus are running for their lives through a portion of the Prime Material Plane that is drenched in dark magic. They can shift through planes but only in short bursts and in small distances due to the heavy influence of the magic, so physically running is actually quicker than attempting magical transportation. The reason they're running is close on their heels, the sounds of chittering mandibles and skittering legs trailing behind them.

The monstrous shadow beasts following them are mainly insectoid in form, though there are some that are horrible chimeras of mammal, insect, and, most horrifyingly, beings. The three angels had been investigating the area due to the deep saturation of dark magic, thinking it may be connected with the Hunger. Life around the area has all but withered away, leaving the once vibrant landscape a barren wasteland in the far south of Faerûn. The only things remaining are the skeletal remnants of long-dead trees and boulders that have been heaved roughly across the landscape, leaving scars of broken ground where they've landed and then traveled before coming to rest.

The border of where the dark magic peters out and- hopefully -the three of them will be able to finally travel back to the Celestial Plane is to the west some miles away from their current position. Magnus is at the front, his sword drawn and dripping shadowy ichor from the blade. None of them have managed to go unscathed, with various wounds scattered across their bodies.

Barry pants as he runs, feeling like he's about to collapse. Celestial being or not, he still tires if pushed to his limits, and he's relatively sure he's damn near them now. He's fallen to the back of the group, the pain in his side from the large amount of running he's been doing mixing in with the wounds he's sustained. He can feel that the shirt he's wearing is damp and sticky, but whether that's from sweat or blood, he doesn't know. Still, he pushes on, lungs burning as he does his best to keep up with his companions.

The sound of nearby cracking branches is the only warning they get before they're descended on from above and from behind boulders, Barry going down with a shout as a skeletally thin humanoid being with a pig-like face and sharp tusks gets the literal drop on him. He defends himself the best he can, eventually managing to get the beast off him with a well-timed low-level Thunderwave that pushes it away, but not without it striking out at him with its long and cruelly curved claws one last time.

Barry drags himself to his feet in time to see Magnus cut down something with far more legs than is entirely sensible, while Lup is hurling fireballs at a mass of swarming... Gods, they look like weasels possibly, but way more slinky and quick than any weasel should have the right to be. No matter what they are, Lup's flames are beating them back and eliciting high-pitched squeals as they do so.

Barry's the only one to see the bear-like creature charging out of the shadows across the clearing, the thing heading directly for the other two. He doesn't stop to think about what he's doing before he takes advantage of the short distance he can plane-step and plants himself in the beast's path. Barry takes a deep breath, ignoring the pain that sparks across his entire being at the rise and fall of his chest, and then raises his hands out in front of him with his thumbs linked to keep his hands steady.

A brilliant beam of concentrated light shoots out of each of his palms, lancing into the beast and causing it to bellow in pain. Barry holds the Sunbeam spell for as long as he can, even as he starts to feel light-headed from blood loss and magical drain. The shadow bear falls to the ground around the same time Barry goes to his knees, his legs no longer willing to support him. His hearing is fading in and out and his thoughts are muzzy. No. He can't... He can't leave Magnus and Lup on their own.

Barry forces himself up once more, flexing his hands. They're curiously numb, something he ignores for the time being as he turns to see what the others are doing. Magnus and Lup are back-to-back now, Magnus taking down his foe with a final sharp sweep of his blade while Lup sends the last of the weasel-things smacking into a boulder with a powerful fiery blast that leave it unmoving. Barry smiles in exhaustion as the battle ends. Good. They're safe for now and they can finally go home.

The three of them keep on high alert as they walk the final few miles out of the blighted area, Barry forcing his feet to go step after step. He breathes a sigh of relief when they reach the border, stopping to sit down on a log to get his energy back for the final trip. As he sits, Barry's world suddenly tilts and goes gray, crashing into black not long after as he passes out, the last thing he hears the concerned cries of his companions.

  


Awareness comes slowly back to Barry an unknown amount of time later. His hearing returns first, dropping in and out in hazy bursts of sound as he slowly claws his way up out of the syrupy state of unconsciousness he usually associates with a healing trance. Smell comes back next, bringing with it hints of sun-warmed cedar, campfire smoke, and lavender. Touch brings the feeling of soft sheets against his bare skin and the broad weave of linen bandages pressing in various places around his body. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and the faint hint of the mint used to flavor strong pain potions lingers there.

Sight is the last sense to make itself known as Barry sluggishly opens his eyes, confusion as to where he is and how he got there warring in his mind. The first thing that greets his blurry sight is the pale wash of a dimly lit ceiling high overhead. The second thing is an indistinct form sitting at his side when he turns his head, the rustling of the pillowcase underneath him sounding far too loud in the hush of the room. He sees wings that are currently the pale pinkish-red of coral tinged with hues of faint orange, rising and falling with their owner's breathing.

The thought that he doesn't know anyone with that particular color scheme enters Barry's mind, winding its way lazily through his brain until it settles at the forefront. Barry turns his head to the other side to see if anyone else is there, but from what he can tell, there isn't, so he lets his head return back to its starting position. The angel beside him must be a healer keeping watch over him, he decides as he closes his eyes. He doesn't know how he got back to the healing halls, but it's kind of whoever helped him.

True sleep claims him again for some time, working its own brand of healing magic. When Barry wakes for a second time, his whole body is aching in a way that reminds him that while he is in pain, he is alive and the better for it, or so he assumes. It's Magnus's voice that wakes him this time, the other angel having a hard time keeping his volume at a low level as he regales the others with some story of his past.

“-and then he actually tried to say that there was no way I could handle so many dogs at once, especially feral ones, but we all know that's a pack of lies,” Magnus says, and Barry can hear the triumphant grin in his voice. “A little sweet talking and some mild divine influence and they were eating out of the palm of my hand. The guy was so confused that he gave up and headed back home.”

“Yes, and then we had a larger than usual pack of dogs hanging around the temple for a few months until this one trained some of them and adopted them out,” Julia adds in, the fond exasperation clear in every syllable she speaks. “He wanted to keep them all, naturally, but even we can't support that many. We don't have enough space.”

“He's always been fond of an- animals,” Barry rasps, opening his eyes to look over in Magnus's general direction. “Ask him about the bear. It's-” He coughs, his dry throat getting the better of him. A person-shaped blur (no wings, likely Julia, Barry decides) moves beside his bed, helping him sit up and then pressing the rim of a glass against his lips. Barry slowly drinks, letting the liquid soothe his throat before moving his head away.

“Has, uh, has anyone seen my glasses?” he asks. A few seconds later, his glasses are being carefully slid onto his face, allowing him to finally see the other occupants of his room. Magnus and Julia are there as expected, Julia by his bedside, but so are most of the rest of his flock as well as Kravitz, all scattered about in various chairs or love-seats that certainly don't belong in a healing ward. Barry frowns faintly when he doesn't see Lup or Taako, but figures that the two are probably doing something important for Angus, so doesn't bring it up.

“Thanks. How long was I-?”

“You've been in and out for a few days,” Merle tells him, hopping up from the loveseat he's sharing with Davenport to come over to his bedside. “That fight really messed you up, and it didn't help you were damn near close to total magical exhaustion, which I gotta say, that's a real feat for a celestial to get to.”

As he speaks, Merle is checking Barry's pulse with deft hands, his eyes watching Barry's calculatingly as if he's making sure everything is working properly. Barry lets him fuss, knowing full well how the older angel gets whenever any of his flock is injured even after so long apart. He looks over at Lucretia, who smiles warmly at him.

“You gave us quite a scare,” she says. “Magnus brought you immediately here after you collapsed. At least one of us has been with you ever since the healers said we could be in the room.”

“Didn't mean to worry you,” Barry replies with a sheepish smile. “I guess I didn't realize I was that bad off.”

He carefully doesn't mention how he's not used to people caring about him any more, not like they used to do. Spending so long on his own with only the other demons and occasionally Kravitz to talk to hasn't been the best for Barry's perception of his self-worth and his worthiness of being around other people. He does his best to ignore the insidious whispers in his mind that tell him he's pulling the others away from worthier pursuits and duties even now, putting on an apologetic expression as Magnus gently tells him off for not saying something sooner about the severity of his wounds.

When Barry goes to adjust his glasses, he notices that his hands are wrapped in gauze and bandages, which surprises him. He looks to Merle for an explanation.

“You pushed a lot of magic through your hands,” Merle says, running a hand over his neatly braided beard, his fingers trailing over the cherry blossoms that are naturally blooming there. “That much energy has an impact on anyone, celestial or not. You'll be fine in a week or so, but the healers can only do so much with their salves and potions. There's a point where the body just won't accept any more magical assistance, so the natural way is the only path to take.”

Barry nods, glad that he at least has some mobility in his hands and fingers. He doesn't know what he would've done if he'd lost his hands entirely. He supposes Angus could've simply remade them for him, but he's glad that he doesn't have to bother Them for something like that, especially since They'll need all the power reserves They can get for the fight ahead. After all, given how tough the minions of the Hunger are, Barry has little doubt that the Hunger itself will be much, much worse.

The door creaks open some time later, admitting Taako and a healer. Taako takes one look at Barry, tells him he looks like shit, and then plops down in the chair nearest to his beside while the healer looks Barry over. Barry submits to the examination, hissing softly when the healer checks the bandage on one of his hands. After a brief discussion of how much pain he's in, the healer decides to give Barry a milder pain potion than what he's been getting, which while nice, does nothing to keep him particularly awake and lucid.

Barry's always been a lightweight when it comes to pain potions, even more so when he's as heavily injured as he is now. He's half-asleep as all but one of his visitors are kindly but firmly guided out of the room, sleepily responding to the goodbyes with a halfhearted wave of his hand. Taako watches them leave, waiting until the healer closes the door behind herself before leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You're an asshole.”

Barry blinks at him, his mind processing the insult in fits and starts. “Any- any reason why?” he asks cautiously. Taako leans forward and pokes him in the center of the chest, albeit far more gently than he normally does when he wants to make a point.

“You made Lup _cry._ I haven't seen her cry like that in _years_.”

Barry's breath catches in his chest. “I d-didn't mean t-to,” he stammers, his eyes wide. “Wh-where is she? I need to- to-” He tries to get up, intent on finding Lup and apologizing to her immediately, but Taako's hand stops him, pressing him back down onto the bed with surprisingly little force.

“Keep your ass in that bed, Barold. You're not going anywhere like that. You'd fall on your face within two steps. As funny as that sounds, I don't want to have to deal with angry healers and a probably angrier sister,” Taako says firmly, not moving his hand until Barry settles back down against the pillows once more. “I know you didn't mean to, but still, doesn't make you any less of an asshole for doing it. She's barely been away from your side since you got here. Nearly refused to let the healers take care of her own wounds, she was that worried. I had to force her to get some sleep that wasn't in this chair so she could actually rest properly, which is why she's not here right now.”

Barry's stomach turns unpleasantly. He honestly hasn't meant to make such a fuss, especially not where Lup is concerned. The fact that she's been sacrificing her comfort over his is both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Barry's never wanted anyone to make themselves uncomfortable over his well-being or his being in general, and certainly not Lup.

“Do you still love her?”

Barry turns his gaze away from the ceiling where he's been staring, his eyes wide behind his glasses as he focuses on Taako.

“Wh-what?”

Taako rolls his eyes. “Do you still love her? I know it's been a while, so things change, but 'fess up, or I'll make sure all your bluejeans turn the worst shade of pink you've ever seen.”

Barry wisely doesn't mention that he can just conjure up a new pair of perfectly normal jeans if that does happen, not wanting to take the wind out of Taako's sails. “Yes, I do,” he says quietly, fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “That's never changed, even after all these years.”

“Good. That's...” Taako trails off and then nods. “Glad to see you're still being a giant dork about it.” He reaches out and takes careful hold of Barry's hand, running a thumb lightly over the bandages there. “You might want to think about doing something about that before too long. The Hunger's one angry asshole and we don't know if we're going to win or not.”

Barry places his free hand over Taako's, squeezing it gently. “Thanks for the advice, bud, but I don't think the middle of a potentially world-ending crisis is the best time to profess my undying love for her.”

Taako scoffs. “You didn't do it before there was a crisis, so why not now?” he asks, letting his hand linger before pulling it away. He gets to his feet and smooths down his clothes unnecessarily. “I've got to run, but Lup'll probably be in here again at some point. I doubt I'll be able to keep her away for much longer.”

Barry lets out a huff of laughter. “I don't think anyone could keep either of you from doing something you wanted to for too long,” he teases fondly. Taako rolls his eyes and then ruffles Barry's hair, leaving before Barry can do much more than manage a halfhearted protest at the action. He sets his glasses on the beside table once more, a yawn escaping him as he gets comfortable. Between one blink and the next, he's asleep.

  


Barry wakes later that night, though he can't say what exactly it is that wakes him. He blinks in the darkness, trying to figure out what's drawn him out of his slumber, and then hears a quiet sniffling noise and the shift of fabric against fabric as something- or rather, some _one_ -moves positions. Barry snags his glasses from the beside table and puts them on, bringing some clarity to the dark room before he turns his head to see who his visitor is this time.

His heart skips a beat when he sees Lup curled up in the corner of the nearest loveseat, her wings hooded around her shoulders in a feathery blanket. He can't really see what colors they are at the moment, but that's alright. Lup's wings have always been vibrant even in her slumber, so Barry's sure that's where they're at now. The position she's in doesn't look comfortable at all, and while Barry's reluctant to wake her, he knows she'll likely thank him for it come morning.

“Lup. _Luup_. Lup, you need to wake up,” he calls out, keeping his voice low so he doesn't disturb anyone outside the room. Lup stirs, her head poking sleepily up from behind her wing before she realizes who's talking. She scrambles up from the loveseat, nearly tripping over herself to get to his bedside.

“Barry! You're awake! Gods, I was so worried!”

“I know,” Barry replies, reaching out with one hand to take hold of hers. “Taako told me. I... Sorry I didn't realize how bad off I was. I was just focused on getting out of there.”

“We all were.” Lup cradles his hand between both of hers, cupping it with all the care in the world like it's some precious work of art made from sugar glass. Barry's breath is stolen away by it, but he's used to that happening around Lup. It's just a part of everyday life for him, and if he has to deal with continual shortness of breath, well, he'll gladly do it if it means he can spend time with her.

“Still,” Barry continues on. “I'm sorry for making you worry so much.”

“Don't you dare apologize for that. I'm perfectly capable of judging how much I want to worry about you, Sildar Bellsong, so don't you forget it,” Lup insists. Barry's mind stutters to a temporary halt at hearing his true name spoken by Lup, still not used to hearing it spoken aloud by anyone after so long. Names are a precious thing to celestials, and Barry's far too used to being called anything _but_ his true name that hearing it still jars him considerably.

“Y-yeah, alright,” he manages as his brain kicks back into gear, albeit slowly and with much grinding. “I'll try not to apologize as much about it, but you'll probably have to remind me.”

“I can do that.” Lup sets his hand down, making Barry mourn the loss of her touch briefly. “Scoot over.”

“What?”

“Scoot over,” Lup repeats patiently. “The bed's big enough for both of us and I promise I don't kick or move around much. That loveseat's not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, and I want to be close to you.” She pauses, hesitation writ broad across her face. “Unless you'd rather- Shit. Now I'm the one who should be apologizing. You're injured and wouldn't want-”

“No!” Barry quickly softens his tone. “No. It's- It's alright, Lup.” He carefully moves over as much as he can without being in danger of falling off the bed or hurting himself, patting the now free space beside him. “You might want to put your wings away. Just in case.”

“Oh, yeah.”

A shimmer of magic later and Lup's crawling into bed, her wings nowhere to be seen. As she lays down, the bed magically adjusts to fit both of them perfectly, giving them enough space to comfortably rest next to one another. Barry's not sure what to do with his arms, but Lup solves that problem by loosely draping the one closest to her around her shoulders while she tucks herself against him, being careful not to rest her weight against any of his wounds. Barry can feel his heart pounding against his breastbone as he does his best to remain calm and collected, his mind jumping from thought to thought with no real semblance of order. This certainly isn't how he's ever thought he and Lup would share a bed, but he'll take it, even if it's just for the night.

“Comfortable?” he asks, feeling proud that his voice doesn't come out too strained or high-pitched.

“Yeah.” Lup rests one hand flat on his bare chest, right over his heart. “I just... I was scared, Barry,” she says quietly. “I thought you were either dying or dead. You were so pale and still when Magnus picked you up, and then when we got here, the healers weren't sure you were going to make it. I- I haven't really left the room since they let us be in here with you.”

“Taako mentioned that.” Barry takes his glasses off, putting them aside one final time before resting his head on the pillow once more. He lays his free hand over Lup's on his chest, trying to comfort her the best he can. “I don't really remember much of anything between the time I passed out and when I woke up a few hours ago. I think I remember one of the healers keeping watch over me, but I might have that wrong.”

Lup hums quietly, her head resting against his shoulder. “It's possible. They were in and out a lot those first few days.” She sighs. “Don't you ever do something like that again, Barry.”

“I can't make any promises, but I'll do my best.”

“Do better,” Lup insists. “We only just got you back. I don't want to lose you again.”

Barry stares up at the ceiling, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I don't want to lose you again either,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. He barely realizes he's said it aloud, but Lup's reaction tells him he has. She lifts her head and places a kiss on the skin over his heart, moving their hands aside in order to do so. Barry freezes, his mind going entirely blank this time.

Lup's always been physically affectionate, doling out hugs and kisses on the cheek alike freely as the whim suits her, but this feels markedly different than those small tokens of affection. Barry swears he can feel the brief hint of heat from her lips lingering on his skin far longer than it should, a tingle running down his spine. It's stupid, he knows, to be reacting so strongly to such a little thing, but as Taako has said more than once, Barry's stupid in love with Lup, so it's pretty much par for the course where he's concerned.

Barry's silent for a long while before he speaks, keeping his voice hushed. “H-hey, Lup?”

“Yes, Barry?”

“I-” He lets out a sigh, his courage failing him. “Thanks. For being here. It's- it means a lot to me,” he finishes lamely, closing his eyes in frustration with himself and his inability to talk about his true feelings towards the amazing woman currently nestled against him as if it's something they've always done.

“I wouldn't be anywhere else.”

Barry smiles into the darkness, knowing that if nothing else, even if she never knows the true depths of his feelings, Lup will always be by his side. And maybe... maybe that can be enough.

The quiet stretches between them after that, and Barry's just about to fall asleep again when Lup moves suddenly, sitting up beside him with a sharp huff of frustration. Barry stirs, a frown pulling his mouth sleepily downwards.

“Lup? Is everything alr-” he begins, but is stopped when he feels Lup's mouth pressing quickly against his own. Barry releases a squeak of surprise at the kiss, too stunned to do much more than lay there and let her kiss him. Lup moves back after a moment, and he can just make out her tense form in the darkness.

“Fuck. I shouldn't have- I'm gonna go.” Lup gets up off the bed, Barry breaking out of his stupor just in time to sit up and reach ineffectively out to her as she leaves the room, the door quickly opening and closing behind her. He stares after her, his mind stuck in an alternately heart-lifting and stomach-dropping loop of thought. Lup just... just kissed him? Barry pinches himself as hard as he can, and yeah, that stings like a bitch, so he has to be awake... Right? _Right_?

Barry groans, cursing his inability to chase after her, and lays back down. Now he's never going to get back to sleep, not after _that_. He lays awake in the darkness and frets until morning, turning Lup's actions over and over in his mind. Why did she run? And better yet, why did she kiss him in the first place? Barry really wants to know, but until he's either cleared to leave the healing halls or Lup comes back, he won't get the answer he wants so badly.

He doesn't see Lup for the rest of the time he's in the healing halls. The others say that she's either out running missions or somewhere nowhere near the greater Halls of Creation. It baffles Barry to no end. Lup doesn't usually avoid issues, instead preferring to tackle them head-on, so it's unlike her to run from a problem. The day Barry is released, he goes looking for Lup, hoping that she's willing to be found and hasn't hidden herself away from the universe.

He eventually discovers her on the Prime Material plane, finding her deep in the stacks of his library in Neverwinter. Barry makes his way to the corner of the library she's made her own with caution, noting the beanbag chairs and pillows that have been appropriated from the youth section and the collection of books spread out around Lup. She doesn't look up at his approach, seemingly too absorbed in the ancient tome she's reading over to bother acknowledging his presence.

“Go away, Taako. I'm working,” she mumbles as he stops next to her. Barry smiles to himself, realizing the source of Taako's exasperation over the past few days, and then softly clears his throat.

“I'm not Taako.”

Lup pauses, her hand going still on the page. Barry watches in fascination as the tips of her pointed ears turn a warm red. “Oh. Uh, hey, Barry. What're you doing here?”

“Well, this _is_ my library, but I actually came looking for you,” Barry says, taking a seat on the spare beanbag chair next to her. “It's been a while since we've seen one another, and--” He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “I wanted to talk about what happened.”

He waits patiently, letting Lup move at her own pace. If nothing else, Barry wants to clear the air between them and make sure they're still good. The kiss doesn't have to mean anything, no matter how much he hopes and wishes that it does. If it's a one-time thing and Lup never wants that kind of contact with him again, then Barry will respect her wishes and they'll just be friends as they always have.

A minute or so passes before Lup closes her book, marking her place with a slender bit of ribbon. She sits up from her inelegant sprawl over one of the beanbag chairs, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear. Barry watches all of this with a small smile. He's always loved the various movements Lup makes, as they make up part of the greater whole of her larger-than-life personality. Sometimes they're quick as a bird, sometimes they're as slow and lazy as a river. Regardless of how fast they are, Barry's cataloged every one of them and tucked them away in his heart.

It's strange to see Lup so hesitant as she usually seems so sure of herself, but Barry supposes matters of the heart can be terrifying to even the most brave and steadfast of people. He watches her open her mouth to speak, pause, and then close it again, seemingly lost for words. Alright. He can get the ball rolling. He hopes.

“I... You kissed me,” he begins, weighing his words carefully. “And then left before I could say or do anything. I don't think I've ever had a kiss-and-run happen to me before.”

Lup laughs roughly, her fingers twisting around one another. “I've never done it to someone, so it was first for both of us.”

Barry can't help himself. He reaches out and cups her hands in his, stilling their harsh motions with a gentle touch. “Yeah, well, I would've preferred that you stayed,” he says, running his thumbs over her fingers. “I'd've been able to actually kiss you back, for one thing, but you caught me off guard and left before I could.”

That seems to catch Lup's attention. “You wanted to kiss me back?”

It's Barry's turn to laugh now, though his is more fond than rough. “Lup, I've wanted to kiss you for a very, very long time, but I didn't think you wanted that, so I didn't,” he says simply. “You seemed happy with us just being friends and flockmates, so that's what I went with as well.”

Lup stares at him, her gaze roving over his face as she's trying to see if he's telling the truth. Barry lets her see the love he's carried for her for longer than most civilizations on this plane have been around, letting that carefully guarded portion of his heart and immortal soul lay open for her investigation. Now that he can show it to her, he does it freely, the depth and sincerity of it suffusing the air around them. Lup draws in a sharp breath, her eyes widening as she picks up on his emotions.

“How... You said a very, very long time. How long...” She trails off, an odd mixture of emotions flashing across her face in rapid succession that Barry has no hope of deciphering in the moment. He sits back and thinks, though he leaves his hands where they are, supporting but not trapping Lup's.

“Hm. I'm not sure if it was a specific event that really set it off,” he says thoughtfully. “It's just sort of been a fact of life for me for almost as long as I can remember. Um, I guess it really crystallized in my mind after that whole mess with Dannar and those stone giants he wanted to add to the Underdark? You'd decimated his reasoning so effortlessly that day that it was hard not to fall-- Well, _more_ in love with you, I guess? It was like- like I'd _known_ I loved you, but not _how_ , if that makes any sense? Like I love Lucretia, for example, but she's like my little sister, not... not...” Barry huffs, trying to find the right words. “Anyways. I kept it to myself because I wasn't sure if you saw me that way, and I guess I just became used to not saying anything.”

“Dan- Barry, that was over fifteen thousand years ago, if not more,” Lup says with a startled expression. Barry shrugs helplessly, a lopsided smile twisting his mouth.

“I know. Seems kind of stupid, holding onto a crush for that long, huh?”

“Barry, you are many things, but stupid isn't one of them,” Lup tells him, shaking her head. She leans forward and hugs him, holding him tight. Barry returns the hug, breathing in her familiar scent of sun-warmed cedar, wood smoke, and lav-

“ _Oh,_ ” he murmurs against her hair. “It wasn't a healer keeping watch over me, was it? It was _you_. But your wings-”

Lup shakes her head, her hair tickling Barry's nose. “There were a lot of pale wings those first few days,” she replies quietly, not moving from her spot nestled against him. “They're a lot better now.”

Barry nods, trusting that she's telling the truth. He's pretty sure that if his wings were visible at the moment, they'd be the most vibrant blue they've ever been just from how happy he is to have Lup in his arms. He closes his eyes, his heart as sure and steady as it's ever been as he soaks in Lup's warm presence against his.

Lup moves away from him after a while, her movements slow and sure. “Hey, Barry?”

“Yes, Lup?”

Lup smiles at him, a faint hint of nervousness to her expression. “Want to try that kiss again?”

Barry can't help but to return the smile, the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkling deeply in his joy and love. He doesn't answer her in words, instead leaning forward and readying himself for the kiss. Lup moves forward at the same time, and-

And the kiss is glorious. It's awkward and nervous and _perfect,_ and Barry knows deep in his heart that they'll have time to perfect it, until kissing one another is easy and practiced as breathing, and even when they do get to that point, each kiss and touch will be treasured just the same as this first one. They part reluctantly, neither able to hide the pleased smiles or the warmth of their cheeks.

“So,” Barry says, feeling like he can take on the world, “what, uh, what were you researching?”

Lup laughs, the sound warm and bright and alive, and then turns back to her books, leaning in against him to explain what she's been working on. When Taako drops by the library several hours later, presumably to badger Lup about coming out of hiding and facing her problems, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees them curled up together.

“Fuckin' _finally_!”

Barry only feels marginally bad for Taako when he gets hit in the face with the pillow Lup flings at him. He rolls his eyes when Taako comes closer to retaliate, reaching up and pulling him down to sit on the beanbag chair next to him.

“Hush and help us research if you're going to be here,” he tells him. Taako huffs sharply but does as told, picking up one of the books neither Barry or Lup have gotten to and cracking it open. The quiet joy of having two of his favorite people in the universe on either side of him seeps deep into Barry's bones and then radiates outward, suffusing the air with contentment and love.

“Feeling extra mushy, Bluejay?” Taako asks between flipping through the pages of his book.

“Just happy to have the two of you here with me,” Barry says truthfully. “That's all.”

Taako hums but doesn't move from his spot. Lup reaches out and lightly ruffles Taako's hair, earning a surprised squawk from her brother.

“Love you too, 'Ko.”

Taako throws a glare her way that lacks any real heat, doing it mainly out of habit rather than any true annoyance.

“Rude.”

“Always,” Lup shoots back with a mischievous grin. Barry quickly marks his place in his book and then sets it aside as Taako reaches for Lup, rolling his eyes in fond amusement. The twins go back and forth messing one another's hair up until both are frazzled messes. Barry looks between them and laughs, his laughter eventually setting the twins off into their own.

“You look ridiculous, dingus,” Taako tells Lup between chuckles.

“So do you, doofus.”

Barry watches the two of them interact, his heart feeling like it's going to burst with how much love and happiness is coursing through him at that moment. He knows it's just the calm before the storm, but he'll take it for however long it lasts.


	8. Walk Through the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a meal is shared, a battle is fought, and the beginning of a new story is unveiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for going on this journey with me. My next big 'fic will be for NaNoWriMo 2019, but there may be various smaller fics between now and then. I'll see y'all on the flipside!

Skirmishes with the Hunger's agents occur more and more over the next few weeks, until it's rare for a day to pass without someone getting into a fight with one or more of the shadow beasts when excursions to the Prime Material Plane are made. Not all of the fights have ended successfully, either. They've experienced some losses, but they've also discovered that the Hunger's agents can be, if not killed, then discorporated and sent back to their leader. It's an oddly satisfying feeling seeing the shadow beasts vanish in a shower of black smoke and ichor, but the feeling rarely lasts all that long with how often the skirmishes are happening.

Angus continues to work with the other gods, and while They do try to stop in at the Halls of Creation every few days, the war council takes Them away from Their reclaimed realm more often than not. They leave Lucretia as Their second in command given her experience with leadership, with Barry and Lup acting as go-betweens as needed. Taako's still working with Kravitz, and both of them seem to be making their mutual way towards a relationship if the amount of flirting they're doing is anything to go by. It doesn't seem to affect their work; if anything, their willingness to spend plenty of time together only makes them a better team.

Barry worries about Lucretia. She buries herself in her work as she tries to live up to the faith and responsibility Angus has placed on her, and more often than not, someone has to go and pull her away from her paperwork to take a break to eat or sleep. That's Barry's self-appointed mission right now. Lucretia's missed both breakfast and lunch that day, so Barry appoints himself her designated dinner companion and heads to her office, which has been relocated from the Archives to somewhere more central and spacious.

He carries two covered plates of hot food in his hands, napkin-wrapped silverware tucked into a robe pocket for future use. It seems like he's not the only one who's had the idea to draw Lucretia out of her office, as when he arrives there, Barry can hear voices drifting out of the gap of the cracked-open door.

“Sky, I'm doing perfectly fine,” Lucretia is saying as Barry approaches the office. “You didn't have to bring me dinner.”

“You've barely been out of your office all day. Avi says you weren't at breakfast or lunch, so I figured that if you weren't going to come out, then food might as well be brought to you.”

Barry doesn't recognize the voice of Lucretia's companion, but he's not surprised given how long he's been away from the Halls. He hesitates, feeling bad for eavesdropping, but it isn't exactly like he's meaning to. Besides, he doesn't exactly want to intrude on what seems to be a private meeting, which means he's stuck hovering near the door, trying to not look suspicious or awkward and likely failing miserably at both.

There's the faint rustling of paper before he hears Lucretia sigh. “Fine. I suppose a small break wouldn't hurt.”

“No, it won't. Besides, you've told all of us more than once over the years that not taking care of ourselves helps exactly nobody, and that includes you, Lucretia.”

Sky's tone softens as she finishes speaking, and the deep fondness Barry can hear as she says Lucretia's name has him wondering just what sort of relationship the two women share. He smiles when he hears Lucretia let out a tired laugh and then quietly backs away from the door. It seems like the situation is well in hand, so he'll go find someone else to eat dinner with.

Much to his pleased surprise, he comes across Klaarg in the now-restored main atrium, and after a little cajoling, sits down with his old friend on the ledge around the fountain to share a meal.

“So,” Barry says between bites, “how've you been doing since, we, uh, since we last saw one another? Still searching for the perfect cup of tea?”

Klaarg laughs, the rough rumble a wonderfully familiar sound to Barry's ears. “I haven't found it yet, but one of these days I will, I'm sure.” He pokes at his food for a few seconds before setting his fork down on his plate. “Look, about what happened-”

Barry lifts a hand to stop him. “You had no part in what happened. It was all Lydia's fault. You just happened to be there, just like Lucretia was. I don't blame either of you. Besides, you were there to comfort me after the bullshit that Lydia pulled. You wouldn't have done that if you were in on it from the start. You're not that kind of being.”

Before Barry can react, Klaarg pulls him into a tight hug, making him glad that his plate is hovering safely in the air in front of him within easy reach, as otherwise it would've gone flying. Barry feels more than a little squished against Klaarg's chest, but it's good to know that his friend is still as hug-prone as ever. He pats Klaarg weakly on the arm, and eventually he's released, his feathers and clothes more than a little rumpled.

“Oops! Sorry, Barry. I tend to forget my own strength,” Klaarg says sheepishly. “I-”

“Barry!”

Barry turns to see Lup running towards him, her hair streaming out behind her. She's been letting it grow out, and Barry loves seeing all the styles she comes up with to wear it in. Right now she just has the front pulled back in a crown braid, the rest of it flowing free down her back. Barry's smile fades when he sees the serious expression on his love's face. He gets up, abandoning his meal entirely.

“Lup? What's wrong?”

“Angus needs to see us immediately,” she says. “Oh. Um, hi, Klaarg. Sorry to interrupt your meal.”

“It's alright,” Klaarg assures her. “There'll be other meals, and if it's important, you two should go. I'll take care of the plates and everything.”

“Thanks, bud,” Barry says, shooting Klaarg a quick smile before Lup pulls him away from the fountain. “Lup, what's going on?”

“I don't know, but Angus wants to see us in the-”

Her words are cut off by the two of them suddenly being teleported from the atrium to a dimly lit room. They're not the only ones there, either; the other five members of their Flock are there as well, looking about as confused as they are. They've been put in a neat circle in the center of the room, with Taako to Lup's left and Magnus to Barry's right.

“Uh... the hell?” Taako asks.

“I have no idea,” Lucretia replies as she looks around. The room seems to be rather plain save for the ceiling, which has a covering of twinkling points of light hanging in deep blue fog. Angus' voice echoes through the room after a moment, though there's no clear source for it.

_My apologies, My friends, but time is short and I do not have time to explain much. The Hunger has sent out out an ultimatum for Me to meet him on the field of battle. The seven of you..._ Angus sighs, the sound rushing through the room. _You are the first of My angels, though I doubt you remember that fact. As such, you have always been special to Me, though I do care for all of My creations. There is another reason I have gathered you all here. When I made you, I added something a little extra to your magical cores. Something that I hoped I would never have to retrieve, but unfortunately, it is necessary given the circumstances. I... I don't know how painful this will be, and for that, I am so, so sorry._

There's a pause before Angus speaks again, and this time Their voice is redolent with power.

_**Davenport Farsight, I call forth your true essence.** _

Davenport lets out a surprised noise as he begins to float upwards off the floor until he's a good five feet up, a silver glow surrounding him. The glow shrinks and then concentrates over his chest in an orb before it sinks into his body. His back arches sharply as a low cry is torn from him. The light reemerges from Davenport's chest, swirling until its in the curious shape of a monocle.

_**Merle Peacespeaker, I call forth your true essence.** _

Merle joins Davenport floating in the air, reaching out to grab his husband's hand as a new silver light surrounds him. The light takes the shape of a gently winding sash, joining the monocle in the center of the circle.

_**Lup Brightfire, I call forth your true essence.** _

Lup's hand slips free of Barry's as she rises into the air, and Barry watches with a thundering heart as she undergoes the same process, the shining form of a powerful looking gauntlet floating into the air after making its way free of her chest.

_**Taako Changestone, I call forth your true essence.** _

_**Magnus Shieldheart, I call forth your true essence.** _

_**Lucretia Staffbearer, I call forth your true essence.** _

Barry watches the rest of his friends rise into the air one by one, his breathing becoming shallower with each passing second. Finally, it's his turn as Angus speaks his Name, the magic lifting him gently into the air.

_**Sildar Bellsong, I call forth your true essence.** _

The pain is sudden but manageable, and soon the final piece of the puzzle- a large hand-bell made of the same silver light as the others -is swirling around in the center of the circle. The seven angels are lowered down as the collected objects rotate faster and faster in an ever-decreasing orbit around one another until they are a blur of light and little else. There's a flash and then the light has coalesced into a new shape, this time of a lethal looking sword that looks like it will fit perfectly in Angus' hand.

_Thank you, My friends. I will need your help once more, though. Gather our allies and have them come to Me when they are ready. It's time that we bring the fight directly to the Hunger and end this once and for all. I'll see you all soon on the field of battle._

_**Now go!** _

The chosen battlefield is a barren field on the Prime Material plane that is thankfully many miles away from the nearest settlement. Not that it really matters if the Hunger wins, but for the moment, the thought that celestial beings will be the only sentient beings in harm's way is reassuring. Barry stands at Angus' back near the front of the small army of celestial beings, Lup at his side. Taako and Kravitz are near them, as the army has been divided into teams of four so everyone's back is covered. Magnus and Julia are partnered with Carey and Killian, a pair of mated angels who work with Klaarg in the celestial guard.

It's little surprise that the two couples have bonded so quickly, with Carey and Magnus becoming fast friends as they train together, and Julia and Killian trailing along after them to help patch up bruises and dented walls alike. Merle and Davenport have been paired up with a duo of dryads, and Lucretia is a little ways back working with Klaarg and a few others.

It's an oddly sunny day for such a momentous battle. The skies are blue and a few puffy white clouds drift lazily overhead. With a deep rumble of thunder, the sun is blotted almost entirely out as a pitch-black cloud lit from within by multi-colored flashes of light forms overhead, hanging unmoving in place. Barely ten feet away from where Angus is standing, a man appears out of thin air. He's dressed in a severely black suit and...

Barry frowns. He looks oddly normal from this distance. Perhaps this is just the mouthpiece of the Hunger? The fighters are silent as the man approaches them, watching his every move. When he's halved the original distance between himself and Angus, he stops, a thin smile barely moving his mouth upwards.

“Ah. I had wondered if You would even show,” he says, and there's something about his voice that sets Barry's nerves on edge. It's calm and smooth enough, but there's an almost hidden edge to it that hints of darker and more dangerous waters just under the surface. “Good. You can die and then this tiring game of cat and mouse can end as it should have done millennia ago. Though I am surprised by Your choice of vessel. A child? Is that supposed to make me hesitate in wiping you from the face of this planet, from existence entirely?”

The man shakes his head and then snaps his fingers. Behind him, a seemingly unending horde of shadow beasts and beings appears, and, more devastatingly, scattered amongst them are quite a few of the angels that left when Angus returned to the Halls. Barry can just make out Lydia and Edward's vibrantly colored wings, though much as with the suited man, there's something not quite right about them.

Angus steps forward, Their currently empty hands curling at Their sides into fists. “Why do you want to fight at all? I've done nothing to you.”

“That's just it- You've done _nothing_ ,” the man replies. “You helped form this world and then... what? Sat back and let it run itself, only occasionally having Your people add a few new things here and there? I suppose it's only fair that since You had a hand in creating this world, You should have one in its inevitable destruction. Now, enough talk. Let's finish this once and for all. I'm just disappointed it won't be harder.”

A wave of magical force pushes both armies back before surrounding the two gods in an impenetrable dome of black liquid that seethes and writhes even as it maintains its general form. Any who try to go close to it gets struck down by whipping tendrils regardless of what side they're on. The shadow beings and celestials face down one another until a group of the Hunger's army charges forward to attack, skirting around the dome and crashing into the front line of the celestials.

Soon all is chaos as the battle is joined fully on both sides. Barry finds himself back-to-back with Lup, Kravitz and Taako not that far away from them as they work to whittle away at the Hunger's forces. Kravitz's scythe sings through the air, cutting through the thick bulk of an ogre-shaped shadow while Taako casts as many different spells as he can to change his foes into inoffensive items. A truly impressive amount of stuffed animals and wooden toys litter the ground near him, and yet the shadow beings still persist on coming after him.

Barry can feel the heat of Lup's fireballs and scorching rays being directed towards their foes, the heat and flames artfully shaping themselves so that the never touch any allies. He focuses on the enemies in front of him, bringing everything he's learned over the years as an angel, demon, and librarian to bear against those who would bring ruin to the world he's learned to love so much. He's had centuries to study various types of magic and their associated spells, not to mention the spell slots to carry them out.

Time moves strangely the longer the fight drags on. It seems to move in fits and starts, with barely a chance to breathe before a new wave of enemies rushes in. The battlefield is slowly filling with the acrid stench of smoke and the cries of the wounded or dying on either side, and in the middle of it all, the black dome still stands, its inky surface giving little indication as to what is happening within.

Barry takes a moment to look around when there's a very brief pause in the fighting, quickly doing a headcount of his Flockmates that aren't in his general vicinity. Lucretia is fighting side by side with Klaarg and a Tabaxi angel, while Davenport and Merle are kicking ass with Hurley and Sloane. The dryads are using vine-like whips to drive back their foes; Davenport is confusing them with illusions and Merle is channeling the power of Pan to blast the remaining ones with radiant holy energy. Magnus and Julia are still with their partners, though Barry can see that Julia has hastily tied a handkerchief around Magnus' left arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding there. Satisfied that his friends and family are doing well, Barry turns his attention back to the fight, pushing his weary body to its limits.

An ominous rumble from the dome draws all eyes to it a half hour later, the fighting coming to a halt as the rumbles increase in volume, both amount and auditory. With a deafening bang and an explosion of light, the dome shatters and the shadow beings burst into nothingness along with it. Barry stumbles, dropping to one knee at the force of the blast. He pushes himself slowly upwards, blinking rapidly in an attempt to regain his sight. What greets him when he turns his head to where the dome used to be has him running full pelt across the muddied field, eventually plane-stepping in order to cover the final distance.

Where the dome used to sit is now a perfectly round disc of obsidian, a good hundred feet in diameter. In the center is the prone form of Angus, the man They've been fighting nowhere to be seen. Barry falls to his knees beside his god and creator, reaching out with shaking hands to check for a pulse.

“No. No no no no _no!_ ” he babbles, frantically trying different pulse-points. He barely registers the arrival of the rest of his Flock, as well as Julia and Kravitz as he starts to push pure magical power into Angus' still form, commanding it to heal and restore. It feels like pouring water into a never-ending hole, but Barry continues to work, looking up at the others. “Help me! _Please_.”

It's not long before all seven of them have a hand or two somewhere on Angus, pouring magic into Them in an echo of the magic They had once formed and manipulated to create them. Lucretia's the first to pass out, followed not long after by Magnus, who is caught by Julia. Barry hangs stubbornly on even as his companions have to pull away, unaware of the fact that the color is draining worryingly fast from his wings and face. He's not going to let Angus die. He's _not_.

A large, gentle hand comes to rest on his shoulder, making him look up. Pan is there, as are the Raven Queen and Istus.

“FRIEND, ALLOW ME,” Pan says, his voice low and soothing when compared to his usual booming tones. Barry's helpless to stop him from stooping down and gently scooping Angus up into his embrace. “WE WILL CARE FOR OUR SIBLING IN A PLACE WHERE THEY CAN HEAL. DON'T WORRY. THEY WILL RETURN TO YOU IN TIME. REST. THE BATTLE HAS BEEN WON AND THE HUNGER DEFEATED. GO HOME AND CELEBRATE.” He pauses. “OR MAYBE SLEEP. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU ALL NEED IT.”

An exhausted laugh escapes Barry before he can stop it. He wraps a tired arm around Lup, the two of them leaning in against one another as Pan vanishes with Angus. Istus steps forward, a smile on her face.

“Let's get you home, hmm? Don't worry about the others; we'll take care of them too.”

She lifts a hand and then, with a broad sweeping gesture, sends the eight of them back to the Healing Hall in the Halls of Creation. The healers there descend upon the tired and injured group, evaluating them and then assigning them beds in a quiet room before the rest of the combatants are transported in. Barry falls asleep to the distant murmur of voices out in the main ward, his wings as pale as winter skies.

Recovery is slow. The Flock of nine is released several days after the battle, and none of them are eager to resume their day to day lives just yet. Kravitz is the most mobile out of all of them and has to attend to his Queen, ducking in and out between assignments. Some of those fighting for the Hunger have gotten away and are causing problems elsewhere, including Lydia and Edward. The duo seems to have disappeared into the Felicity Wilds, but word of what they're doing there has yet to be heard, which is simultaneously worrying and comforting.

A month after the battle, Barry has returned to his library, craving the familiar surroundings and the scent of his books. It's comforting, and more often than not his friends join him there when they have time. Lup is the most constant visitor, followed by Taako and, most surprisingly, Lucretia. More often than not, she's accompanied by Sky, the Tabaxi angel who fought at her side and has, according to Klaarg, been slowly but surely trying to court her for the past decade or so. Barry has no idea how that endeavor has been going, but Lucretia doesn't seem to mind, and he knows that she'll say something if she ever does.

It's after hours and the library is closed. Barry is finishing up his daily closing routine, humming along to the quiet music Lup has playing on the intercom. She's upstairs, tidying up the last few things in the youth section. Barry steps behind the desk to check on the Library Catalog, making sure everything is in its place. He pauses when he sees a title in red flashing up at him from the first page:

_Caleb Cleveland and the Clock Case Caper_

It's the newest one in the series, just released last week and-

Barry abandons the front desk and dashes upstairs, reaching the top just as Lup calls out to him.

“Hey, babe? You need to get- Oh. Never mind.” She grins at him and then gestures at the beanbag chair tucked in the corner. “Look who's here.”

Barry skids to a halt next to her, staring at the occupant of the beanbag. Angus grins toothily at him.

“Hello, sir!”

Barry leans in against Lup and laughs, his joy radiating through the air. “It's good to see you again, Angus,” he says once he's done laughing. “You look good.”

Angus gets up from Their seat, setting Their book aside as They do so. “So do you. Though...” They pause. “I know it's a bit of an odd request, but can I see your wings?”

Barry arches an eyebrow but does as asked, letting his wings materialize. The majority of the feathers are a deep blue, with the primaries being the only exceptions. Those are a vibrant scarlet that fades into a fiery orange at the tips. Angus' smile deepens when They see that.

“I see. Well, you look good too.”

“Feeling good,” Barry replies. “I'm feeling... amazing, actually.”

He has the love of his life in his arms, his family visiting him regularly, and his creator back whole and healthy. Barry may not be a demon any more, and he's still not the best angel in the universe, but that's alright. He doesn't have to be perfect to be happy.


End file.
